


Fool's Gold

by freetheankles



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: (do not ask me who tops), (see Blandine I listen), Actor Louis, And if you don’t crave Lemon meringue after reading this it, Angst, Arnacoeur AU, BOO YA MY SPECIALTY, Banter, Blandine, Casey is Niall's love interest, Casey is the new Sam, Chef Harry, Con Artists, Despite the premise there's, Fluff, Happy Ending, I should've started with this given my reputation, I think the fic is rather trigger free, I think this could also be tagged as, I'm trying something different, Liam is not a bad guy in this either, M/M, No cheating, Pastry Chef Harry, Roleplay, Romantic Comedy, She's my Jeff, Slow Burn, Smut, Wedding Planning, admit you were expecting angst, aha!, all letters of complaints shall be sent to, and if I can write it without gagging you can read it, and last but not least, as always, but not really, but tell me if I need to tag anything please!, but veeeery mild, con artist!Louis, for which I should say I'm sorry but I'm not, got you there didn't I, grease refs, hate to love but in the 'catch me if you can' sense, i hope you'll like it, if that makes sense at all, it is however, like in the rom coms you know, lots of, means I have done shit job friends, no graphic anything happens between Liam and Harry either, over use of, overuse of 1D lyrics, there's a wee bit of, there's like one kiss, there's no straight sex in this work however, this is a new era, which is a french rom com, who would've thought right, with that said I'm going to make real tags because otherwise Blandine will have my head
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-09
Updated: 2017-06-19
Packaged: 2018-11-11 08:23:10
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 9
Words: 55,265
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11144583
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/freetheankles/pseuds/freetheankles
Summary: Leaflet for Over Again Inc.“In relationships, there are three types of people: those who are happy, those who are unhappy but accept it and deal, those who are unhappy and in denial.Handling this last category is our job: we are professional couple breakers.To reach our goal, we use all means necessary.”Or the Arnacoeur AU in which Harry is scheduled to be married to Liam in 10 days and Harry’s mother hires Louis and his team to break them up.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first solo project, so naturally I’m a little anxious, so please guys, be nice. I've tried my best. 
> 
> You can always reach me on [my tumblr](http://www.freetheankles.tumblr.com) .
> 
> When I say "solo", it’s a blatant lie of course because I had a ton of support from dear friends who have been there for me from start to finish, holding my hand, lifting me up or shaping this thing into something remotely readable. This is all thanks to them. As a thank you I put you all in there.
> 
> My betas are the best. Go and give them some love.
> 
> [Seren](http://www.myinnerfangilr.tumblr.com): My sister from another mother, in another life we should’ve written this together and I’m forever thankful for letting me/helping/pushing me stand on my own two feet. I love you.
> 
> [Lisa](http://www.a-writerwrites.tumblr.com/): Mom, nothing here would be readable without your touch, you’re the real MVP here, thank you.
> 
> [Silvia](http://www.melmanpur.tumblr.com): Where to start? I have so many things to say. Thank you for all your wonderful manips for this work and for being an awesome muse and a dear friend. Thank you for your support and your constant cheerleading, I really needed that.
> 
> [Dan](http://www.iamlittleblackdress.tumblr.com): aka the Muse ™. I don’t think you really grasp how important all you do for me on a daily basis is as a muse, you’re a great source of inspiration and I love you very much a lot.
> 
> [Blandine](http://www.nottooldforthisship.tumblr.com): The best PR in the world, always and forever, the best team we are, you and me. I hope it’ll last forever. Thank you for your constant support and also for “Paris Picking” for me.
> 
> [Shar](http://www.tommosgun.tumblr.com): Thank you for brit picking and beta'ing when you're on fucking vacation no less, you are wonderful.
> 
> As you can see it takes a village. I love my village. From the bottom of my heart, thank you.
> 
> I do not authorize translations for this work.  
> Kudos and comments are greatly appreciated.
> 
> And if you like it, then please help me promote it by reblogging [the fic post.](https://freetheankles.tumblr.com/post/161475060616/fools-gold-by-tvshows-addict-pairing-harry)

 

 

 

_“With diamond ring or fool’s gold.”_

_\- Jefferson Starship_

 

**

 

**Leaflet for Over Again Inc.**

“In relationships, there are three types of people:

  * those who are happy
  * those who are unhappy but accept it and deal
  * those who are unhappy and in denial



Handling this last category is our job: we are professional couple breakers.

The people we help come from all backgrounds. They can be your parents, your siblings, your friends or your work colleagues.

We are hired to save them from greed, stupidity, selfishness or infidelity. We exist to help them.

Our profession: break up their relationship. Our goal: open their eyes. Our method: seduction.

We abide by a moral code. We break people up, NOT their hearts. We never do it for religious or racial reasons nor do we sleep with our targets. More importantly, we only do it if the person you want us to save is truly and unmistakably unhappy.

Our team consists of:

  * Casey, a highly competent engineer in charge of all the missions’ technical aspects,
  * Niall, a well-respected professional who handles human and material resources,
  * and last but not least, a true gentleman and incredible actor: Louis Tomlinson, who will treat your loved one with the utmost respect.



To reach our goal, we use all means necessary.”

 

**

 

It’s the middle of the afternoon when Louis catches a ball thrown at him, secures it in his hands before pivoting to hit the woman on the other side of the court.

“I fucking hate dodgeball!” Louis whispers tightly, directing all the anger he can muster to Casey who is listening in through the earpiece. One day he’s going to strangle his best friend. And it’s not going to be pretty. She’s the one who brought this mission to their attention after all.

 _“Stay focused! She’s going to-“_ Casey doesn’t have the time to warn Louis through the intercom before the ball strikes Louis square in the groin.

As he bends over gasping in agony, he hears Casey groaning - or is she laughing?-   _“Oops!?”_ Louis fucking hates her sometimes. He’s definitely not letting her choose the next target that’s for sure. He is the fucking boss. Someone should really remind the team of that. This is the Louis Tomlinson Show. _Right?_ Right.

He walks hunched over himself, limping slightly, to the bench bordering the pitch and sits. Catching his breath is hard; trying to regain sensation in his lower body is even harder. It has not been of use lately but that’s certainly not a good enough reason to be rendered impotent on the job, thank you very much. He should check his insurance. If J-Lo can insure her valuable assets, maybe he can too.

Through the tears he’s trying to suppress, he sees a chubby man running towards him with worry painted all over his face. His name is James and according to his sister, his partner Ben has been cheating on him for the past three months.

Louis remembers now why he accepted the mission. He doesn’t like cheaters. Those are the missions easy to say yes to.

When the game ends, and they lose to a bunch of tough looking female warriors, Louis and James both linger in the stadium, sweaty and exhausted, looking at each other with matching grins on their faces.

And so, right on schedule, the mission begins, like it always does. With a smile, Louis spent years perfecting and a lie on the tip of his tongue ready to be delivered. It doesn’t even make him bat an eyelash anymore.

“Hi! My name is Robbie.”

 

**

 

Louis is nearly at the top of the oak tree. His feet dangle on each side of the branch he’s sitting on as he idly wonders, a tad too late, if it might not be thick enough to carry his weight. So much for Casey’s _meticulous calculations_ as she snottily put it. If he wasn’t suspended ten feet up in the air he might find the heart to laugh at Casey’s flared nostrils when he suggested he might break his neck during this stunt. Louis had decided to back down after the time Niall had declared "She's a fucking engineer!" for probably the 100th time. Hearing the branch dangerously crack under his weight, he wants to fire them both. Again.

Louis extends one hand towards the white kitten stuck right above him. It looks as scared as Louis feels. Louis doesn’t blame it.  

“Coooome on kitty, come to daddy. Coooome on, I’ll take care of you, don’t be scared kittykat,” Louis cooes, decidedly ignoring the cackles resonating in his in-ears from both Niall and Casey alike. Honestly. This is the team he’s stuck with.

After a few minutes, that feels like hours, judging by the sweat accumulating on Louis’ forehead, the kitten claws up his clothes with his tiny snow coloured paws, desperate to escape his embrace and squirming so much they’re both about to fall off.

“Fuck, Casey! The damn cat is afraid of heights. This plan sucks balls! And not in a good way!”

 _“Shut up and smile,”_ Casey grits out through the earpiece. _“She’s coming your way!”_

Louis tries to plaster a genuine smile on his lips, while the animal still hisses in his arms.

A friendly faced, brown-haired firefighter climbs up on a ladder to rescue him. Her name is Blandine, and according to her fellow crew members, her partner Clara has been neglecting her more and more this past year, focusing entirely on her promotion.

With a small smirk, showing an admirable degree of bravado, despite his precarious situation, Louis’ gaze never leaves her face.

When she finally reaches him, he flashes her his best grin and announces: “Hi, my name is Luke.”

 

**

 

The nightclub is packed. Blue and green lights are flashing around the dancing crowd Louis is standing in. On the platform in the middle of the dance floor, a slim man with long straight raven hair is mixing music and bouncing along to the beat, obviously having a blast. His name is Steve Aoki, and he’s the next Calvin Harris. Or so he would be if his girlfriend Taylor Swift (yes... _the_ Taylor Swift) wasn’t completely outshining him by blatantly stealing his creations to climb up the charts herself.

According to Steve’s manager, Taylor isn’t capable of writing anything at all, and she would be no one in the industry if she wasn’t putting her name on everything Steve writes. In fact, she’s been doing that with every single one of her boyfriends since the beginning of her career. It’s the equivalent of black widowing in the music business, only she doesn’t actually kill them after -thank fuck- just serial manipulates them into giving her their creations. Steve is just too mesmerized by her to really see it.

This mission is trickier than usual because it’s high profile and involves a lot more recon and digging than what they’re used to. Be it NDAs breaking, bodyguards or paps avoiding, Louis has to be way sneakier than usual. They already missed two opportunities to make contact with the target due to Taylor’s sudden appearance by Steve’s side.

“You’re lucky I fucking love a challenge, Casey.” Louis is sure that she won’t hear a thing with the decibel level of the music blasting around him.

 _“Fuck off!”_ Okay, maybe not. _“You hate Taylor Swift! You can’t wait to give her something to really cry about,”_ she adds in his earpiece. Which is-- okay, kind of true.

Getting Steve’s attention in the middle of a huge crowd isn’t necessarily the easiest thing in the world. Niall encouraged a soft approach of flirting at a distance so that they could keep their cover but Louis disagrees: the mission has lasted long enough as it is. Tonight is the night.

He pays a few guys to carry him on their shoulders a good five minutes before Steve uses his signature move of throwing a cake in the crowd. Louis is close enough to the stage that the DJ can perfectly see him. During the whole set, Louis boldly checks him out, licking his lips and smiling intently. Steve laughs it off, but can’t seem to stop staring regardless. He looks a mix of amused, annoyed and aroused all at once.

 _“You couldn’t be more obvious if you tried.”_ Niall ponders in Louis’ earpiece.

“That’s the point, Nialler.” Louis rolls his eyes internally. “Go big or go home.”

When the time comes to throw the cake, Louis is the perfect target for Steve. The cake flies above two rows aiming at Louis, who catches it with both hands and little to no damage to his face or his clothes.

 _“How the fucking hell did you manage that?”_ Niall’s bewilderment is clearly shared by the crowd and by Steve himself.

 _“Man of little faith! I told you I could get a fake cake on stage! ”_ Casey is a genius. Holding the cake up in the air, still intact, Louis has never been prouder of his team.

His pleased and cocky smile ignites shouts in the crowd as Louis raises an eyebrow and signals to the DJ that he wants to get on the stage. Steve, clearly charmed, invites him there and while they hug, Louis whispers, “Hi, my name is David.”

 

**

 

After the first contact is made with a target, every mission turns out pretty much the same. Louis spends time with them, makes them feel like a million pounds, uses every ounce of charm he can muster. He shares bits of his pretend past relationships with a neglecting partner, unfaithful fiancé(e) or fame-hungry/ladder-climbing boy/girlfriend; take your pick. Rinse and repeat, ad nauseam.

They relate. They always do.

They’re elated to be finally understood.

They beam. They blush. They lower their heads to hide how won over they truly are and every single time, they kiss him. With passion, with restraint, with a touch of despair. Louis barely holds them, his hand cupping a cheek, or caressing a shoulder. Innocent. Safe. _Empty._

He rolls his eyes to the sky though, when, like clockwork, conversation sparks into his earpiece during the kiss.

 _“Can you believe people still fall for his bullshit, Niall?”_ Casey groans.

_“You say that every time. Don’t be so bitter. He’s good. Romance is not dead! Yaaay!”_

Louis has to quickly get back to the moment before his targets murmur something along the lines of  “I’m so sorry! Forgive me, I-- I don’t know what came over me.” They always look guilty for cheating. They always seem to be surprised it happened, too, even though they always initiate it. It’s all part of the plan. Louis’ plan.

That moment of doubt is when Louis starts his well-rehearsed, carefully crafted speech.

“Forgive you? For what? Kissing me?” Louis asks James heatedly.

“I was broken... But you carried me over fire and water,” he claims to Blandine.

“I was drifting, weightless but you made me feel alive,” he explains to Steve.

“But right now, I can’t love you more than this,” he whispers to all of them, with desperate fake tears rolling down his cheeks.

That’s their cue to try to kiss Louis again. But he always stops them, with a kind gesture.

“Your kiss can’t mend my broken heart, it’s too late for me to start all over again,” he laments to a saddened James.

“You can’t lend my broken parts. Now it’s just too late to turn around,” he utters to a weeping Blandine.

“I can’t make the same mistakes. It's inevitable everything that’s good comes to an end,” he deplores to a confused Steve.

He then takes a shaky breath and hides his face in his hands, while his targets irrevocably hug him. Casey and Niall are more often than not back to bickering in his ear by then. It’s all kind of _exhausting_.

_“Oh! That’s a new line! Your speech keeps getting longer and longer.”_

_“Are you surprised that Louis wrote this shit, Niall?”_

_“Yes I am, he’s a cynical bastard. Still, I gotta hand it to him, it works like a charm.”_

He tries -and fails- to tone down his annoyance when he grits out to dumb and dumber as quietly as he can-- “shut up, both of you, I’m working.”

 _“Oh boy, I think we’re disturbing the talent,”_ Casey says. The roll of her eyes is audible.

_“Oh no! We can’t have that!”_

_“I was being sarcastic Niall! Please! Keep up!”_

It always takes a few seconds for Louis to go back in character and look up at his target with a sweet sad smile.

“Oh! How I wish…” he adds, hiding his face behind his soft fringe.

“But you… You have to live while you’re young, James!”

“I can take comfort in knowing that you’re not scared of love, Blandine!”

“All I know at the end of the day is that I’m honoured to have been a king beside you even though I was just a temporary fix, Steve!”

They always look at him with wonder when Louis strikes the _final blow_ as Casey puts it.

While cupping James’ face-- “You!”

While holding Blandine’s hands-- “You!”  

While stroking Steve’s stubble-- “You!”

“You deserve the best.” Louis ends with devotion.

The kiss that follows is always more grateful than passionate.

“Thank you, Robbie!”  Murmurs James.

“Thank you, Luke!”  Proclaims Blandine.

“Thank you, David!”  Babbles Steve.

At last, they come to a decision, thanks to Louis, and are ready to move on.

James will meet Ben at his workplace and slap him before changing the house’s locks. Blandine will go home, pack her things and move out of her shared flat with Clara. Steve will put all his songs under lock and key, becoming a star in his own right and leave Taylor with the hard work of writing a whole album by herself.

Louis’ job is done. It’s a job well done.

If he feels empty, it’s neither here nor there.

 

**


	2. Chapter 2

 

_A frolic with citrus rush_

_You hesitate to swallow_

_The bites of heavenly mush_

_Are shades of sunlit yellow_

_-[Malmadre ](https://allpoetry.com/poem/4224395-Lemon-Meringue-Pie-by-malmadre)_ _, Lemon Meringue Pie_

 

_**_

 

It’s around noon when the cab turns the curb into Heartland Road, dropping off Casey, Niall and Louis in front of their shared Camden flat. The cute pastel coloured front of their [home](http://c7.alamy.com/comp/BM32A4/colourful-houses-hartland-road-camden-town-london-borough-of-camden-BM32A4.jpg) gives a posh air to an otherwise shoebox-like appartment. At least they have a reasonably priced roof over their heads.

They’re supposed to debrief their mission, and Louis insisted they did that first despite Casey and Niall’s demands to have breakfast at the Bonjour Brioche Cafe a few streets away. These two rarely agree on anything but when they do, they’re even more annoying than usual. Nothing could make them agree more than their dulce de leche cake.

Louis doesn’t want to eat. He just wants the debrief to be done and over with so he can finally sleep for twelve hours. Their last mission was exhausting. They were in Sydney for two weeks where they successfully freed Gina from a husband that treated her like a maid (and not the kinky sexy kind either) and they’re all feeling pretty good about the outcome.

Louis is sporting a rather big bruise on his neck, but that’s the price to pay when you have to fight off a man that is more gorilla than human in an attempt to save a wife and her kids. It wasn’t supposed to go that way, they never have to “extract” targets. But if you asked Louis, that turn of events gave a little thrill to a somewhat repetitive job.

Casey would just smack him behind the head for thinking that, as their job is really anything but boring. Niall, on the other hand, would be his unperturbed self. This job still hasn’t lost its appeal and spark, despite him having been there from the beginning. Louis suspects it has something to do with Casey. Who is he kidding? It has everything to do with Casey. However, the woman won’t show him the time of day, which Louis is grateful for. He doesn’t know how he would deal if both of his best friends -his only friends actually- got together. It would be too awkward. It has nothing to do with how it would surely open the can of worms that is his own life. Surely it wouldn’t make Louis feel, jealous, envious or God forbid _lonely._ He’d be thrilled if they got together, okay? _On paper at least_ It’s just that they work together, and they have a very serious job to do. There’s only three of them, and he can’t have two third of his small team shagging each other. It’s a business decision. If he had a HR manager, they’d fully support him.

So Louis ignores as best as he can how enamoured Niall looks when he interacts with Casey. To Louis’ credit, it’s not particularly hard, seeing that she treats Niall more like an annoying little brother than anything else. There’s zero sexual tension going on there, despite what Niall says to him on more occasions than Louis would like (the last time was two hours ago on the plane when she was asleep.)

Louis is busy paying up the driver while Casey and Niall are unloading the car, still bickering over what they should order for breakfast once their briefing is done.

“Hey, isn't that the girl you’ve been seeing?” Casey suddenly mumbles, putting her suitcase onto the pavement.

“Shit! Fuck!” Louis turns his head so fast he almost gets whiplash. The woman he’s been seeing on and off for a few weeks is standing near their building’s entrance, her arms crossed in front of her chest.

He readjusts his expensive blue suit in blind panic, puts his aviators back on his nose like that’s going to hide the bruises on his neck and releases a deep breath in an attempt to steady the erratic beating of his heart.

“Heyyyyy!! Love! Didn't expect to see you? It’s good to see you! Marvellous! Splendid!” Louis leans in for a kiss but she jerkily turns her head away.

“What is it, Love?” Louis chooses to play innocent. There’s a fifty percent chance it’ll work. This wins him a little time to work on his cover at least. Treating this like a job always helps. It’s not his first rodeo.

“How were the Alps?” She asks, coldly, her upper lip twitching in what looks like barely contained rage.

Louis has to search his mind very quickly. He tells so many lies for a living, he’s bound to mix some things up once in a blue moon, right? Like her name, or where he was supposed to be…. He is not even sure he told her he was going to the Alps. He certainly doesn’t look like it with the three-piece suit he is wearing. _Fuck, think, quick_

In the end, he settles on something noncommittal. “Errrr, cold?”

“My friend Liz, you know the one who’s an air hostess? She saw you yesterday in Sydney’s airport.”

“That’s preposterous! Pffft-- That’s--” Louis should really stop gesticulating. He should also ignore Casey’s snort.

“I called Oxford.” The petite blond interrupts, shaking her head in disbelief. “There’s no record of a Louis Dumont working there.”

“This is just a big misunderstanding!” Louis tries. He should know better, but he still tries. His chances of success are now down to twenty percent. He’s had worse odds.

“I put the stuff you had over at mine in a box at the concierge, I would like to get the key to my place back please.” Her tone is clipped. As for Louis, he has no recollection of any key ever being given. Though, it’s probably not the right time to bring that up.

“Wait, Shai-- Shar-- Love! Calm down. I’m going to explain everything.”

“I’m listening.”

Go big or go home is clearly Louis’ motto and exactly what this situation requires. He can’t help but take a look behind him, searching for support. His team is supposed to have his back, but Niall is about to become one with the pavement while Casey looks like the only thing she’s missing is popcorn.

Stepping closer to his on-and-off… date… woman he likes to… go out with, he gently coax her further away from his building, ready to lie through his teeth.

“I’m not at liberty to tell you what I do. It’s-- classified.” Louis whispers, frantic, in her ear. “I was on a mission-- for the country. We’re being watched--” He whisper-shouts and looks around dramatically. “Maybe they’re even listening right now. I can’t involve you in this, do you understand? It’s for your own safety Shai-- Shar-- Love! I’m a--” He pauses, bracing himself for effect “a-- sp….aaaaaaaah.”

Louis gets punched before he has time to finish. He falls bum first on the dirty pavement, dizzy and wondering where he went wrong.

“My name is Shelly, dumbass!” She screams. “Forget the keys, I’ll change the locks!” She adds before walking away.

Niall courageously waits for her to disappear behind the corner before approaching him.

“Ha! You didn’t see that one coming, did ya?” Niall cackles from above him.

“Professor at Oxford? Really?” Casey asks, unimpressed, but still giving him a hand to get on his feet. “You’re aware you don’t have to play pretend in your personal life, right?” She adds, softer, fixing his jacket and collar.

She has long frizzy light-brown hair cascading over her shoulders, freckles on her cheeks and big hazel eyes that always reminded Louis of a doe. Right now, she looks pained, borderline pitying and that makes Louis feel squirmy under her gaze. She always knew how to read him. Since the first day of Uni where they met and were forced to share a room after an administrative mistake. She’s the only person he could never manage to bullshit. And he tried.

Repeatedly.

“It’s a shame, I really liked her,” Louis murmurs, brushing off his pants and making a conscious effort not to look at his best friend.

“Please, you couldn’t even get her name right.”

As Louis said, he could never lie to Casey.

 

**

 

Click. Flash. Click. Flash.

“I need a little more light over here. It needs more sparkle.” The photographer says impatiently, wiggling his index finger between his assistant and the cake he’s shooting for the cover of “So Good..”, the magazine of Haute Patisserie.

Harry sighs in annoyance. “No more light. You’re going to melt the chocolate.”

“But Chef--”

“I said no, Gabriel. It took me twelve hours to perfect this cake. It’s absolutely stunning, I’m not bragging, it’s just a fact. It’s a masterpiece of precision. Perfect size, perfect equilibrium between sweetness, fondant and mousse, perfectly smooth. It’s delicate and balanced both in taste and texture which is why you’ve been called to immortalize it.” Harry pauses, purses his lips. “The only thing that is wrong with it is its temperature now. And that is entirely your fault.”

“Yes, Chef. Err. Sorry.” Gabriel flushes but Harry doesn’t care if he hurt his feelings. He didn’t build his reputation on being soft on his people. He’s always worked his team hard to the core and they respect him for that. This is why “Gem’s” has been ranked best cake shop in the U.K. for three years in a row, and how Harry became official supplier to the Royal Court. The fucking Queen of England eats Harry’s eclairs for breakfast for God’s sakes. His shop is the _place to be_ right now. Or to have tea at, at least.

The lack of precision on Gabriel’s part is making Harry’s jaw tick. If there’s something Harry hates, it’s sloppiness. He adjusts the collar of his pristine and immaculate white working vest and resists the temptation to loosen the tight bun atop his head.

“Chop chop, Gabriel.”

The bakery door keeps twinkling, letting an array of people from the magazine in and out. It’s a big deal, this photoshoot. Who knew so many people were needed to take a picture of a freaking cake. There is also the long line of his regular customers that is a little in the way of the shoot but Harry isn’t one to close shop for such a trivial thing as a magazine cover. His reputation is on the line and he has [mouths to feed](http://tvshows-addict.tumblr.com/post/159859786536/stefigergova-photo-what-happens-when-an), so to speak.

Harry looks around, making sure everything is in order then stops dead in his tracks when his gaze falls on a familiar face. It looks softer and friendlier than it really is. He should know. Clad in a fur coat and high heels that could put any model to shame, wearing impeccable make-up and a smile that is a tad too frozen to be genuine, is Harry’s mother, Anne.

“What are you doing here?” Harry’s voice remains quiet, but there’s an emotional undercurrent that shakes through his words.

“I’m here to pick up my order, and to see you of course, darling.” Anne kisses Harry on each cheek. She smells nice, familiar. He groans.

“I should have known only you would order two hundred lemon meringues.” He tries to keep his annoyance under wraps. He fails.

“It was your sister’s favorite--”

“I know it was.” Harry tenses up, anger spiking unexpectedly at the mention. “So what?”

Anne isn’t one to back down. “Well, what choice did I have? You never pick up the phone, you won’t let me pay for your wedding, or even for a tailored tux.”

She looks calm and composed, like she always does and it irks Harry. Her mere presence, makes the skin on his forearms rise in goosebumps.

“I told you, Mother. I’ll accept your money the day it comes from the the furniture store and only the store.”

Harry was never approving of his mother's illegal activities.

“Suit yourself, it’s your wedding after all. Speaking of, how is the wet blanket?” She accompanies the question with a blinding smile, her fakest one. It’s the one she uses whenever they talk about him and Harry has no patience for it today.

“His name is Liam. He’s nice and caring and genuine. He loves me and I’m going to marry him, so stop it.” Harry goes to leave, then thinks better of it and turns around. “Oh and um, if you don’t want to come to the wedding, please don’t, okay? Goodbye mother.”

He really doesn’t need people that don’t support him anyway.

 

**

 

Louis enters the café showing much more confidence than he feels. He’s about to meet a ghost from his past that he couldn’t really say no to. Not that he didn’t want to see Simon or anything. He always loved the man. It’s just that seeing him is bound to bring back memories he’d rather keep buried deep under a pile of sarcasm and regret. Louis spots Simon, twisting a little spoon in his coffee and thumbing at his jaw. He looks less scary than Louis remembers. Then again, Louis might have just grown up. Things seem less intimidating as you get older.

Simon spots him as soon as Louis approaches the table. “Louis! It’s been a long time.” He gets up and gives Louis a long hug that Louis reciprocate genuinely. He missed Simon.

“Fifteen years.” Louis chokes out. It’s a much more of an emotional reunion than Louis anticipated.

“The last time I saw you was at your dad’s funeral.” There it is, the giant elephant in the room.

“Yeah.” Louis replies hesitantly. “Hey, umm, I found this at my mum’s. Thought you’d like it.” The newspaper clip Louis pulls out of his pocket is rumpled and yellowed from being stashed and forgotten in a drawer for too long. Nevertheless, the headline makes the old man smile.

_Louis Tomlinson, MVP of the Junior National Football Championship_

There’s a photo of Louis gracing the article, clad in football gear between Simon and his dad, and they’re all wearing big winning smiles. Louis was fifteen. The times were simpler back then. Louis barely recognises himself. He clears his throat, suddenly very aware of how different he is now.

“It’s a shame you stopped playing football, son. You could have gone pro.”

“Yeah... Well, three days in a coma kind of made me reevaluate, Si. Can you blame me?”

“All because you lost one footie match.” Simon dismisses. They never could see eye to eye on the matter. “It was really hard on your dad when you threw in the towel and left the team. He was a good man, your dad. Hard but fair.”

Louis would beg to differ. His dad only cared about his team, everything else came second. Be it his wife or his kids. It took a long time for Louis to realise it, but once he did -coincidently when he left the team and his dad stopped caring about him altogether- it was impossible to ignore. Louis can’t say he ever forgave him.  He doesn’t want to get into it with Simon though, the older man wouldn’t understand.

“If you say so…” Louis replies, noncommittal. They sit at the table. Louis hails the waiter and resists the urge to order a whiskey neat at 10 a.m.

“How is your mum, your sisters?”

“They’re good. Mum raised them well.” Louis takes a sip of his tea. Too hot. “All by herself.” Louis adds after a beat, almost defiantly. Huh. Weird. He thought he was over that.

“Always knew Jay was a strong woman.” Simon is oblivious. Or he doesn’t want to set Louis off. Either way, Louis is grateful.

Simon slides a file in front of Louis indicating that the small talk part of the meeting is over. Louis is grateful for the reprieve. Business he can do.  

“Harry Styles, son of Anne Styles, Furniture shop owner--” Simon introduces.

 

“Twenty-eight, 5’11”, educated, renowned pastry chef, mummy issues, likes working out and expensive clothes--”

“You came prepared!” Simon rubs his hands together. “They told me you were good. This is why Styles’ mother asked for you!”

“Don’t act so surprised. I always come prepared. Tell me what I don’t know about the target. What is his problem? What makes him tick? Why isn’t his fiancé the perfect match?”

Simon sighs and opens another file.

“Liam Payne.” Simon points at the picture of a smiley crinkly eyed guy with a handsome, friendly face. “Heir of a diamond empire.” Louis examines Payne’s picture. He doesn’t look like a prick. Then again, they rarely do. “You have ten days to break up their engagement.”

Louis’ head snaps up in confusion. “Ten days? I can’t. I need more time.”

“Impossible,” Simon says, shaking his head and closing the folder before him.

“Why is that?” Louis’ pulse spikes up in anticipation, sensing a challenge both in the way the conversation turns and the smirk Simon is wearing.

“They’re getting married in Paris in ten days.”

Game on.

 

**

 

Before every mission even begins, _Over Again Inc._ has a lot of research to do about any potential target. Harry Styles is no exception to that rule. Preliminary research always includes verifying that the target is actually in need of their services, moral code and all. You wouldn’t believe the number of jealous ex-boyfriends, racists parents or homophobic twats that Louis had to refuse money from because of his high standards principles. _Over Again Inc._ is simply not that kind of business. They’d have less financial problems if they were.  

When it comes to research, If you’re imagining some kind of voodoo computer hacking thingy like you’re watching an episode of “Arrow” and Felicity Smoke is at the ready to find out whatever you need to know, you’d be sorely mistaken. ‘Recon’ is really not as fun or glamorous as it sounds. At least that’s what Casey shouts into her wireless system from the bottom of the Harry’s Styles rubbish bin she’s thoroughly sorting through in front of his building. Louis is watching her from across the street, in the beat up breadvan they use on missions, feeling just a tad guilty. Niall is out there taking photos at least. Louis is just scratching his balls, bored out of his mind in an overheated van, waiting for something to happen. He always hates this part. He wonders if he should warn Casey about the banana peel hanging over her head, then thinks better of it. Better not remind her of his presence, her wrath is never a pretty sight.

“The target is leaving the building. Get out of there, C. ” Louis says into his sleeve, where the microphone is hidden.

 _“Copy that.”_ She groans back. The crashing sound of the rubbish bin lid coming down resonating in the background.

While Niall and Casey make their way back to base, Louis watches Harry and Liam leaving the posh building hand in hand. It’s the first time Louis has the chance to see Harry in the flesh. He’s wearing a tight bun and big sunglasses that hide half of his face, but not enough that Louis can miss the frown between his brows or his slight pout. Or maybe it’s his regular face. Louis will know soon enough. Harry looks posh in a blindingly white button up under a jacket and skinnies. No jewelry, Louis notes, not even an engagement ring. Liam doesn’t looks half bad in a light grey three piece suit, phone pressed to his ear. They look good together. The embodiment of a power couple. In fact they look like the gay version of Posh and Becks.

Harry leads Liam to the car and begins to trot away when Liam pockets his phone, pulls Harry by the arm and grabs him by the waist before giving him a sweet kiss that Harry notably melts into. He smiles into it at least. The light blush high upon his cheeks suggests he’s into it. With a bashful smile he bats Liam away. _Interesting_. At first sight they looked kind of cold towards each other. It doesn’t seem to be the case anymore.

Casey climbs back into the breadvan just seconds after Niall, and she throws the rubbish bag in both their faces. They jump back in horror. “Heyyy!”

“You don’t pay me enough for this shit, Lou!” she laments, closing the van’s door. “I fucking hate this job sometimes!”

Louis can’t really argue, the smell in the van is insufferable right now.

 

**

 

They’re back at _Over Again Inc._ headquarters which, in reality, is an old tour bus from the band ‘The Rogue’ they converted into an office slash lair and is now parked at all times in the backyard of one of their first clients in exchange for free services. It’s been three years, Louis doubts the engine even still works but it’s not a problem as long as Lissie lets them stay there for free. To be frank, she has paid her debt several times over now but she always had a soft spot for Louis ever since he saved her daughter Mac from a loveless marriage. Louis was happy to do it for free back then, she was a sweet girl who deserved better.

 As Casey and Niall go through the rest of Harry’ rubbish, gloved up and huffing every so often, Louis is busy shaving his scruff. He’s not vain. It’s just-- the way he looks is important in his line of work. This is why he has such an imposing wardrobe too. He simply needs to be able to play the part, whatever it might be. From Art Dealer to Zoo Elephant Trainer. He was an astronaut for a whole week for a mission once. He fooled NASA for God’s sake. Louis smiles to himself in the mirror. He looks good. Presentable. Clean. Louis has a feeling Harry is not the type to be impressed by the look he had to sport for his last mission (AKA - unkept greenpeace lobbyist.)

 “Louis, it’s not good.” Casey frowns, sorting through bills and empty yoghurt pots.

 “What did you find? A lover? Debts?”

“None of that.” She shakes her head.

“Gigolos? A secret family? Boozing? What?” Louis approaches, buttoning up the shirt he ironed a few minutes prior. Baby blue. It brings out his eyes and it’s designer.

“This is not the L.A. case.” Nial interjects, helpfully binning the waste Casey is over with. “This Payne guy is clean. I genuinely think they’re in love, Lou! I saw them with my own two eyes. Look at the pictures, we can’t break them up!”

“Come on now! They can’t be _that_ perfect!” To Louis’ credit, no one is. He’s been doing this job for far too long not to become a little cynical. Or a lot, depending on who you ask.

They just have to dig deeper. That’s all there is to it. As Niall and Casey work silently on their respective computers, Louis wonders why he’s so intent on finding something on this guy. It wouldn’t be the first time they refuse a mission.

“Wait! I found something!” Niall exclaims, visibly happy with his findings. “Payne finished Uni to go...nevermind.”

“What?” Louis leans over Niall’s shoulder.

“He went to Africa for a year as a volunteer to bring water to remote villages. And-- oh crap he opened a food bank not far from here actually,” Niall says grimly “ I think we ate there when things were bad three years ago.”

“Don’t remind me!” Casey bites. “If I had any pride or any career prospect, I’d leave your arses and find a real job.”

“You love us, shut up,” Louis says, eyes never leaving the computer screen. “It’s been the three of us for twelve years, attached at the hip since the first day of uni. You could find a job in a heartbeat. Don’t think I don’t see the job offers lying around unanswered in the living room. So you’re not leaving us and I don’t see how that would ever change. We’re brothers. We’re family. Stop fucking whining.”

“Brothers?” Niall winces. “No, we’re the three musketeers. That I can get behind.” He adds under his breath, “Brothers my arse.”

Casey rolls her eyes but the way she bites at the inside of her cheek to repress a smile tells Louis everything he wants to know. He squints back at the computer from behind Niall, something catching his eye.

“Look at Payne’s smile in this picture, he’s obviously hiding something. He’s too perfect.”

Casey, now busy sorting through the couple’s mail, hands out something. She looks slightly nauseated. “Look. He leaves love notes. On post its.”  She mimicks a barf.

“So?” Niall asks.

“On fucking post it notes! It means he leaves them on the fridge, on the bedside table, everywhere. There are tons of them! Payne is a romantic.” She flails her arms like the fact personally offends her.

 Louis smirks, realisation striking, then his smile morphs into a quiet laugh that confuses both Casey and Niall.

Ding ding ding.

“Keep digging,” Louis says, clapping a hand on Niall’s shoulder.

“Wait, what?”

“He would keep the notes,” Louis explains around a cheeky grin. “If things were so heavenly, the target wouldn’t throw the love notes away.”

“Oh-- Oh!!” Niall is finally caught up. “See, Casey? This is why he’s the boss.”

“Yeah.” Louis winks.

Not so bad for a day’s work.

 

**

 

As Louis instructed, they keep digging. That entails stake outs. Harry and Liam are having dinner in a posh restaurant that night. Friday appears to be date night. Louis used his contacts so the lovebirds are seated by the window and that they can be surveilled easily by Louis and his team. They rock paper scissored who was going to stay in the safety of the van for the evening which explains why Niall and Louis are dressed as homeless people across the street from the dining couple. Casey has parked the van not too far, but not close enough to be spotted either. She’s happy to have won this one she informs Niall and Louis through the intercom for the fifth time that night. It may be summer but the boys are freezing their balls off seated on the pavement.

It’s the first time that Louis notices something out of the ordinary when it comes to Harry. He’s wearing a simple shirt that is unbuttoned almost all the way to his bellybutton. Louis can see that Harry’s creamy chest is covered with tattoos much like his own and it’s another surprise for Louis who really didn’t pin him for the tattoo type.

“Stop staring.” Niall says, unbothered, chewing on something Louis can’t identify.

“What?” Louis answers distractedly.

“You’re gonna get us spotted, stop staring.”

Louis feels a blush creep up his neck, he has to shake it off. This is very unprofessional of him. He clears his throat and looks away. Niall chooses this exact moment to gape at something and Louis has to direct his gaze to the couple again.

“Did Payne just--?”

 _“What did I miss?”_ Casey asks.

“We’ve got something! Payne just made the target re-button his shirt!” Louis hisses excitedly.

Niall is soon to rain on the parade, however. “No wait-- Look, the target is laughing, Payne wasn’t being a jerk, he was just helping out. Damn.”

The clipped smile on Harry’s face is almost imperceptible. It is to Niall, but it’s not to Louis trained eye. Niall and Louis sit back quietly, Louis puts that new piece of puzzle in the back of his brain for the time being. 

 _“Okay guys,”_ Casey starts through their in ears soon after, and it’s a happy reprieve. Louis hates stake outs with a passion. _“I have some more intel on the target. They’ve known each other three years. Classic love story. They met through a friend, bumped into each other at a couple of events, dated for a month before their first kiss and slept together after three months - the things I found thanks to post-its, Jesus Fuck- been living together for a year.”_

Liam strokes Harry’s hand gently over the table, the latter is telling a story that make deep dimples delightfully form on each side of Harry’s smile. They suit him in a bizarre kind of way. Louis didn’t know dimples could look soft. Weird.

They share dessert under the team’s scrutiny. Harry is about to take a bite when he stops hesitantly, he has spotted Liam’s open mouth, visibly waiting to be fed. Louis snorts. This is typically the kind of thing that would make Louis gag or roll his eyes at the very least. You have your own spoon Payne. Bloody use it.

 _“That’s why you’re single, Boo,”_ Casey snarks. She’s always been able to interpret his snorts spot on.

“Plus Harry doesn’t seem to mind.” Niall is right, Harry is now spoon feeding crème brûlée to his fiancé. Louis simply thumbs the bridge of his nose at the sight. Honesty. Then Liam starts to kiss every knuckle of Harry’s hand, staring lovingly into his eyes.

“ _Okay._ ” Casey drags out the “O”. “Let’s drop it. They’re in love. It’s sickening, really.” Louis knew she’d get fed up soon enough. She isn’t one for fluffy romance either.

“Wait,” Louis says, pointing a finger up imperiously and furrowing his brows. There’s a beat of silence in which he looks intently at the scene unfolding in front of him, something isn’t right.

“Casey’s right Lou, look at them, if God had to restart humanity, they totally would be on Noah’s arc” Niall interjects.

 _“You’re aware that Noah’s arc carries couples to reproduce, right?”_ Casey’s laughter booms through their in ears.

Niall, however, is as clueless as ever. “Yeah, so?”

 _“Nevermind love, you’re hopeless,”_ Casey reprimands, but it’s fonder than she usually allows herself to be.

“Stop bickering,” Louis shushes them, still watching Harry and Liam, doubt sizzling in his bones. He always follows his gut feeling and his gut tells him that there’s more than meets the eye here.

There’s a stain of caramel coloring Harry’s cheek that Liam points at. Harry gets adorably flustered at that, wiping it furiously with his napkin. It’s not intimate, this exchange. After that previous display of affection, it seems off. Why wouldn’t Liam wipe it himself? That’s odd right?

It’s a stretch, even in Louis’ book.

“Something is off.” Louis finally voices his concern, clenching and unclenching his fists, he can’t ignore his shoulders tight with tension. He needs a good rub.

 _“Nothing is off!”_ Casey groans.

“What is off?” Niall wonders, picking at his front teeth, unperturbed.

Casey grunts, reading Louis’ mind from a mile away. “How could you live with yourself if you broke up Ken and Barb-- the other Ken.”

Louis takes a final look at Harry through the window. Harry looks happy and serene. His soft pink lips are stretched into a smile and he seems comfortably sleepy like one can get after a four course meal and a bottle of wine. Some of his curls have escaped his tight bun and it makes him look younger than he is somehow. There’s only one word that could describe this man in this moment besides -strikingly beautiful- and that is _happy._

Louis attributes the ache rising in the pit of his stomach to hunger.

“You’re right. I must have-- you’re right. Let’s go home.”

 

**

 

The next day, in the same café they met in before, needless to say, Simon isn’t happy to hear about the team’s decision.

“What do you mean you won’t take the job?” Simon’s brows are knitted in a ferocious scowl that makes Louis’ inside squirm a little. The man was his hero growing up so it’s only natural he’s still a little intimidated by him. Still, Louis is not backing down.

“They look happy. Ridiculously so.”

“As usual, as soon as it gets difficult you just cop out.”

“That’s--” Louis sighs heavily, shoulders slumping ever so slightly. “Don’t start, Si. With good prep, no one can resist me. Male or female. It’s not that.” Louis feels a little bit of his confidence coming back, because what he just said is true.

“That fear of failure that crippled you back then, is what made your father so upset you know. It saddens me that you still haven’t got over that.”

“It has nothing to do with that!” Louis’ nostrils flare with anger, cool facade long gone. Simon’s words swirl inside Louis’ gut, already festering despite being just spoken. He’s not backing out now. “It’s the principle of the thing, okay? They’re happy. I won’t break them up, no matter what you say.”

“Tell me one thing kiddo.” Simon takes a long sip of his scotch. “Is that what your father would do?”

Louis stands up at once, heat plummeting hard and fast inside his ribcage. _Lungs. Function. Now._

“Goodbye Simon, it was good to see you.”

 

**

 

Back in the The Rogue Bus, where Niall called an emergency meeting, the tension is palpable. Louis hasn’t been able to work out his frustration after his meeting with Simon and there’s a strange vibe where normally things are chill and relaxed. Niall is clicking furiously on his pen, bouncing his knee up and down and he’s talking hushedly with Casey. Louis’ mind is elsewhere. He can still hear Casey whisper shout, “no you tell him, it was me the last time.”

 Niall finally gets up and places gentle yet firm hands square on Louis’ shoulders, like a worried parent. “Bad news is we can’t pass up this contract, Lou.” Niall lips are quivering, like he’s seriously scared of how Louis will react.

“Why not?” Louis asks, eyes boring into Niall’s.

“We’re this close to bankruptcy, for one,” Niall says around a sigh. A little more calmly now that it’s clear Louis won’t throw a fit. To Louis’ credit, it only happened once.

Casey gets up and tugs at Niall’s sleeve, urging him to sit back in front of the computer. Once he’s where she wants him to be, she leans behind him, her boob is laying in his shoulder in an attempt to reach the mouse.

“Come on, show him.”

Niall has visibly lost his train of thought. “God you’re useless.” She shoves him to sit in his lap and turns the computer so Louis can see the excel sheet more clearly. Niall looks uncomfortable, not knowing where to put his hands. It would be funny if Casey didn’t start badgering Louis right away.

“The fuck, Lou? You spent two K on a suit? Seriously?”

“I can’t be expected to wine and dine in rags now, can I?” Louis answers defensively, voice three octaves higher than it should be. He tugs at the designer shirt he’s wearing right now like he’s adjusting his armour.

“Our office is literally a thirty year old tour bus!” Niall says, finally snapping out of it. ”How do you expect us to see clients in this dump? At least we used to have a real office.”

“We can’t afford it anymore,” Louis says bitterly. He doesn’t have his head in the sand, alright? He knows they’re not exactly rolling in money at the moment, it’s just a rough patch is all. Louis is going to fix it. He _is_ fixing it. He has a plan. It’s just-- It’s not a foolproof plan.

“The breadvan is days away from dying completely!” Casey scolds, but manages to look imploring. “What will we do then?”

“I know, I know!” Louis runs a frustrated hand into his hair and begins to pace around.

“You made us recreate a full african village last month!” Casey’s glare bores a hole into Louis’ skull, he can feel if even if he’s staring intently at his shoes.

“Don’t forget about the closing of the Sagrada Familia for the mission before that one!” Niall says, ever so helpful. Louis hates when they gang up on him.

“This is getting out of hand!” Casey nudges Louis’ chin up, forcing him to make eye contact.

“I’m an artist.”

“We’re not in college anymore. The days we thought of ourselves as the next breaking act in theater are over.”

“I take my job seriously,” Louis continues stubbornly. “For that I need a setting, a crew, costumes and props. Simple as that.”

“He’s right you know, you can’t expect Mozart to write an opera with a harmonica.” Niall is already admitting defeat and his easy going nature is exactly the reason why they became fast friends in uni. Louis barks out a laugh, Casey however, doesn’t like the turn of events.

“Shut up, Ni!”

“No you shut up, Casey,” Louis finally says, harder than he intends to. But she needs to understand. She _needs to_. “Do you think I like to sleep in a one bedroom flat with you two? Do you think I like not having any privacy at all? Or time to myself?”

Casey just lets out a frustrated sound.

“How much do we need? Five K? Ten?”

“More like twenty.” Casey says sourly, words weighed with gravitas. “And that would just get us out of debt.”

Louis will have to make do. He always does.

“You’ll have it tomorrow.”

 

**

 

Louis has a system when it comes to these kind of things -money problems- It’s not ideal and it’s not perfect but he manages to keep all their heads above water, food on the table and shelter for the three of them. He has a ‘guy’. His guy - Dan-  is more often than not accompanied by what is more of a giant mountain of muscles than a man running by the name Alberto, or so Louis thinks because he’s not much of a talker. In fact he spends most of his time cracking nuts open with his bare teeth than anything else when Louis is present.

Today, much like any other day, he doesn’t talk, just communicates with grunts. The sound of cracking nutshells makes Louis cringe when he approaches the man who easily has a foot on him.

“Al, mate, hello.” Louis greets awkwardly. It’s not that he’s afraid of Alberto, but he’s pretty intimidating seeing that he has biceps the size of Louis thighs. Alberto doesn't even acknowledge him. He stays leaned on the foot of the bridge under which Louis is supposed to meet Dan.

“You shouldn’t eat your nuts like that mate. Not good for your teeth.” Alberto grunts a non-committal reply. Louis feels smaller by the minute, which is exactly what Dan wishes to accomplish in Louis’ opinion.

“Did you know Alberto used to do handle dog fights back in the day?” Dan greets, approaching the two men, a sly smile on his face.

Bullies, they can smell the fear on you, so you never have to show them that they’re getting to you or else you’re screwed. That's why ‘fake it ‘til you make it’ is a motto Louis has always lived by. He feels a little of his confidence restoring when he says “Good! I love dogs meself.” He grabs one of Alberto’s nuts for good measure then flashes a cheeky grin to Dan. “Hello Wootton.”

“He loved to fight pitbulls.”

Louis purses his lips. Better get straight to the point with a guy like Wootton anyway.  “I need another advance, Dan. Twenty.”

“Louis.” Dan sighs through his nostrils. “Louis, Louis, Louis. You can forget it, buddy. But I’ll give you an extension on the thirty K you already owe me. One week.”

“Didn’t we settle that debt already?”

Wootton’s eyes are stone cold and boring into him. Louis’ eyes shoot up, panic rising in the pit of his stomach. He bullshits people for a living, for crying out loud, he can bullshit Dan fucking Wootton.

“Didn’t my guy call you? That’s so weird! Wait a sec, let me call him real quick. It’s no bother at all. We’ll get this mess sorted out in no time.”

Dan tilts his head Alberto’s way and the pile of muscles tackles Louis to the ground in a loud ompf. Then Alberto proceeds to lift Louis up so his feet don’t touch the ground anymore, then shoves him against the wall so forcefully it knocks all the air out of Louis’ lungs at once. He gasps in pain when his jaw makes contact with the concrete.

Dan then approaches calmly and leans predatorily over him.

“If you don’t pay up. I’m gonna ask Al here to smash your face in so that your own mother won’t recognise you. Got it?”

“Argghhh. Okay.”

Alberto releases his grip on Louis’ neck then. He turns him around like a lifeless puppet. Louis is still dizzy and disoriented. Alberto straightens Louis’ collar then pats his cheek twice as to say ‘good boy’.

When they’re out of sight and Louis manages to make his limbs cooperate again and catch his breath, he cracks his neck, spits a little blood from his split lip on the pavement and fumbles for his phone in his pocket. The decision after that is quickly made.

“Simon? I’m in. It’ll be fifty K.”

“Greedy fucker. Deal.” Simon laughs. “Harry will be in Paris first thing tomorrow starting to prepare for the wedding. The good news is that Payne is out of the picture working the whole week. He won’t be there until the day before the ceremony. You have six days to make it happen Louis. Good luck.”

 

**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Twelve cookie points to the person who will find the Rululu (read Empty Skies by greenfeelings) ref AND the 210 days (by cherrystreet) ref hidden in this chapter. 
> 
> [My tumblr.](http://www.tvshows-addict.tumblr.com) I promise I don't bite.
> 
> Go give some notes to Silvia's [Pastry chef Harry manip.](http://www.tvshows-addict.tumblr.com/post/161743398976/melmanpur-harry-styles-son-of-anne-styles) Isn't it the most beautiful?


	3. Chapter 3

_"Seductive, spiteful, cruel, with the reckless anger and eruptions of a volcano.”_

__\- Andréa Azulay, A Biography of Clarice Lispector_ _

 

__**_ _

 

Paris’ Avenue Montaigne doesn’t look so shabby with the sun rising high in the sky on that particular spring afternoon. Then again it’s one of the poshest streets of the capital where only the most expensive hotels and high fashion stores reside. Louis finds it just a tad funny that it was called the Widow’s Alley in the eighteenth century because all the widows gathered there to mourn. What? In the context of his line of work it _is_ funny. Plus he has a lot of time to google while he waits for Harry to finish his shopping in the Saint Laurent Store. Then he’ll make contact with the target.

Louis has invested in a new sound amplifier system which allows him to hear everything that’s happening in a mile radius around the breadvan that has travelled with them. Casey also hacked into the surveillance camera network so he could have eyes as well as ears inside. Louis is not bored out of his mind yet, which is surprising seeing as Harry is trying out his eleventh pair of boots.

As stated before, surveillance is really not his cup of tea but Harry has proven to be quite the entertainment so far. It’s not like what he says to the saleswoman,  _Anitra,_  is particularly interesting or anything, it’s just that he looks a little more relaxed than usual, he even let his hair loose, and it’s cascading over his shoulders, which is a first for him, as far as Louis has seen. For some reason, he has been unable to look away since Harry released his bun. Louis is half convinced it’s because the sun make his loose curls look like they’re whisked with gold. Harry keeps running his hand through the long waves so it’s a little distracting.

“What do you think?” Anitra asks, adjusting a strap on Harry’s ankle.

“You really think I could rock glitter boots?”

Louis is taken aback. He was so distracted by the hair he didn’t notice the bold -and out of character- fashion choice. Up until then Louis has only seen Harry in simple, borderline boring attire. In fact the only thing that seems bold in Harry is the the tattoos Louis has only seen a glimpse of the other day through the window of the restaurant.

“Absolutely, Sir. You look very good.” The saleswoman clasps her hands together.

“Mmmh. I don’t know. Maybe it’s a little much with a patterned shirt.” Harry is looking at himself in the mirror, teeth sinking in his lower lip every so often.

“Mmmh. I think with these boots, the outfit has to be a little more low key, yes.”

“I think you’re right. Bring me that sheer black shirt will you?”

Once Harry tries it out he gives himself a once over. “I like it.” A pause. “A lot.” He says, a small smile dancing on his lips. Louis agrees. Harry looks hella fine right now.

An ounce of regret in his tone, Harry backtracks though. “Nevermind, I’ll take the black boots and the white shirt, Anitra.

When the saleswoman has finished packing all Harry’s purchases, he pats his back pocket.

“I left my wallet in the car, I’ll be right back.”

Louis is waiting for him. Wearing [ a navy suit ](http://tvshows-addict.tumblr.com/post/160306810366/alinok-24-days-of-louis-donate-19-best)handpicked because it brings out his eyes and makes his most prominent assets look even better, he’s leaning casually on Harry’s rented car. He’s holding out the wallet in his hand and watching Harry coming over behind a pair of Raybans. He knows he looks both good and like an arsehole right now, which is what he’s aiming for.

“You shouldn’t leave your wallet lying around like this.” Louis says smoothly.

Harry snatches his wallet, facing Louis with inquisitive eyes. The deep furrow of his brows betrays how unsettling the whole ordeal is for him. Yet, he doesn’t back down.

“Who’re you?”

“I’m Louis. Your mother hired me. I’m your bodyguard.” He doesn’t dwell on the fact that he gave his real name this time. He has excuses, he’s distracted.

Harry responds tit for tat, absolutely not phased by Louis’ explanation. “You’re a bit short for a bodyguard.”

“Don’t be fooled by my height, love. I’m very efficient. I can take down a two hundred pound guy with my thighs only.” Harry eyes him down, looking a second too long at Louis’ thighs. Everything is going exactly according to plan.

“I don’t need a bodyguard. I can take care of myself.” Harry pulls his phone from his pocket then. Louis is about to argue but Harry shuts him up with an imperious finger twirling in front of his face.

“Hello mother, it’s me,” Harry says as a greeting. He’s agitated. “Who’s the twink you hired?”

“Excuse--” Louis tries, offended, unsettled even, but Harry shushes him by snapping his fingers in his face impatiently. “What do you mean what does he look like? You hired him.” Harry couldn’t look more unimpressed if he tried when he stares Louis down, listening to his mother’s response. Louis feels a little naked under the scrutiny. “Early thirties, brown hair. In desperate need of a haircut _and_ a shave. 5’7--”

“Hey, I’m 5’9 actua--”

“--bad taste in shoes and clothes. God, ew. Should I go on?”

Louis is rendered speechless. In eight years doing this job, no target has ever had such a knee jerk reaction to him and that includes seducing a straight man a few years back. Louis has missed the mark by a mile this time. What can be expected with such a short period of time to prepare for a mission anyway? Louis groans. He fucking _doesn’t_ have bad taste in clothes.

“I’m not fifteen anymore, I don’t need a bodyguard, mum,” Harry argues, knuckles white around his phone.The device is shoved in Louis’ hands in defiance, then. ”She wants to talk to you,” Harry groans, tapping his foot rapidly beside Louis.

“Yes.” Louis stands straighter to address her. Even if she can’t see him, Louis learned that body language can be heard, and she is technically his client.

_“A bodyguard, seriously?”_

“Yes Ma’am.”

A car passes in the street, not particularly fast but Louis pushes Harry back against the car, mindful not to break character. Harry rolls his eyes at him.

 _“You’re a genius!”_ Anne exclaims.

“Absolutely,” Lous replies evenly, Harry looks more suspicious than ever.

 _“I’ll tell him I have received threats and that he’s under my protection as long as he’s not married. Louis, don’t screw this up. Now put my son back on the phone.”_ Louis smiles to a displeased Harry, handing him the device.

After a few more moments where Harry argues with his mother, he finally hangs up abruptly. The glare he sends Louis’ way make the green of his eyes lace with fire and smoke. Harry goes back into the store, evidently refraining from stomping his feet.

With an exciting burn kindling his stomach, Louis smiles like he has won the lottery and follows him inside.

“Whatever my mother is paying you, I’ll double it.” Harry says, credit card ready in hand to pay his shirt and shoes. “I promise you she’ll never know.” Louis furrows his brows in confusion but Harry looks very serious.

“So? How much do you want? Give me a number here.”

“Stop it.” Louis whispers looking around and meeting Anitra’s eye. “You’re embarrassing me.”

Louis stays silent when Harry takes a step closer to him. “Maybe you’re not after money then? Ever fantasized about fucking a man about to get hitched?” Harry leans in to talk into the shell of Louis’s ear, he’s so close Louis can feel Harry’s hot breath tingling his skin. “Come on, just a quickie in the changing room. I’m not wearing any underwear.”

Louis pushes Harry back hastily at that, bewildered at the forwardness. This took an unexpected turn.

“I’ve seen the way you’ve been staring at my arse.” Harry says pointedly, unashamed before the saleswoman. For the gazillionth time that day, Louis is speechless. He has done no such thing.

“You think you have principles?” Harry says, tone turning hard and unforgiving. He looks so authoritative right now, it’s unnerving. “You’re just like anybody else. A minion, afraid of my mother.”

Harry’s phone rings and he picks up, his voice going soft in an instant. “Yes, darling?” A final glare towards Louis and Harry is gone.

Before leaving, Louis addresses the saleswoman, who looks scandalized after witnessing their whole exchange. “He’s lying, he’s wearing underwear.”

It’s the only thing Louis is sure of right now. His head is spinning.

It doesn’t matter if Harry is annoyed. Louis is his bodyguard so he shouldn’t be walking ten feet behind his target but he’s having trouble keeping up with Harry’s large strides at the moment. Bloody long legs. It’s lucky he knows Harry is staying at the Hilton for the following five days leading up to the wedding because Harry managed to reach and start the car before Louis has even had time to realise what happened.

 

**

 

At the Hilton, in the elevator taking him to his room, Louis checks himself out in the mirror.

“What’s wrong with my suit? This suit is perfect.” He mumbles to himself. “The fuck is his problem, my arse looks fantastic in these.” Louis tries out his million dollar smile then, it falls short.

 _“I feel obligated to remind you that we can hear you,”_ Casey deadpans in his in ear.

 _“Your suit is perfect, Tommo,”_ Niall is quick to reassure, bless his soul.

Casey is already in the room adjacent to Harry’s suite waiting for him. Niall and her have taken care of the equipment they’ll be needing for the mission. The room is a portrait of chaos, maps and photos pinned on the wall, files scattered everywhere, Casey’s computer opened on the desk and showing footage of Harry’s room where Niall is installing the cameras in real time.

“Hurry up, the target is coming up.” Casey warns.

_“I’m almost done.”_

Niall is finished seconds before Harry makes his entrance, barely having time to quickly get away through the adjoining door leading directly to their room. It’s a close call even for them. That’s what happens when they’re underprepared.

As soon as Harry’s inside, he faceplants onto his bed. He spends the better part of the late afternoon lounging on his bed, lost in thought and tracing the eagle tattooed onto his arm absentmindedly.

 

**

 

Later that night, Harry is seated at his desk, checking out boxes on his wedding to do list. He’s wearing a thin black silk robe, just about to start on his skin care routine and get ready for bed, when he hears a knock but there’s no one at the door. The noise is coming from the door between his room and the one beside it. Harry opens the door to find Louis in spiderman pyjamas bottoms and nothing else. He’s brushing his teeth casually, foam all over his mouth.

“Just wanted to let you know that I’m occupying this room. Just in case you--”

Harry slams the door in his face. It’s not like Louis is surprised or anything, it amuses him at this point actually. He turns around to Casey and Niall seated on the bed looking positively unimpressed.

“Perfect! He’s already falling for me.” Louis beams.

“Gotta tell you, man, you’re playing the perfect loser,” Niall says, ”If this is the plan, you’re doing a great job.”

“I have no words.” Casey wipes a hand over her face.

“Too much?”

Yeah okay the loser scenario where the target takes Louis under their wing may have worked on Cynthia two years ago, but it doesn’t seem to be the case on Harry now. He just doesn’t want to lose face in front of his friends, sue him.

“You think?” Casey deadpans in response, giving him her best ‘bitch please’ look. “You gonna up your game a notch anytime soon?”

He’s trying okay? He’s shirtless isn’t he? Why is Harry Styles the only man immune to his charm? Why? It’s nothing short of frustrating already. He’s going to have to work a little harder at it, that’s all. Find the breaking point. Harry has one, everyone does.

It’s a little later, that they resume their research, something they usually do before a mission not during. After hacking into the bank accounts, the team’s looking at various newspaper clippings and photos. One of them catches Louis’ eye. It’s one of Harry and Liam sunbathing on a yacht. The picture showcases Harry’s tanned and firm torso, his v line prominent as well as his defined abs, it’s quite pleasant to look at too but what Louis is staring at is Harry’s tattoos collection.  

“I don’t get it.” Louis ponders. What he means is that he doesn’t get _him_ , but he’s not quite ready to admit that just yet.

“What?” Niall asks, between painting two of Casey’s toenails.

“Look at his tats. Butterfly, Eagle. Boat. Sparrows.”

“So?”

“Everything screams freedom on his body.” Louis should know. The ink all over his skin is a testament to it.

“It’s a nice body,” Niall adds not bothering looking up. “Your type too.” Louis ignores him.

“I mean. Explain to me why a guy who participated in a [ World Naked Bike Ride ](http://tvshows-addict.tumblr.com/post/145864254496/chocolatechippotts-where-is-my-larry-au-winks) would want to spend his life with someone as plain and boring as Liam Payne,” Louis laments and it makes Casey raise both her eyebrows.

“I’m sorry you lost me at World Naked Bike Ride.” Niall says.

“Look.” Louis hands him a newspaper clipping. “He was protesting against car culture and oil dependency.”

“Naked?” Niall hisses.

“It’s clever. That’s why it became newsworthy,” Louis notes.

Is there footage of this naked bike thingie?” Casey squints over the illustrative pic in the clipping, it clearly doesn’t please Niall.

Louis snatches the article. “No, there isn’t.” (He’s checked.)

Casey snorts over the article, endeared. “Hipster dork.”

“Yeah exactly. Why would he want to become some corporate arm candy?” Louis ponders.

“But he makes his own money, he’s very successful.”

“He doesn’t make enough to support this lifestyle, come on.” Louis gestures at their surroundings. They’re in a suite in the fucking Hilton and Louis has in fact checked their bank accounts, Liam _is_ paying for a lot, like their flat and the cars.

Niall is adamant about providing an explanation. “Maybe he wants to become a philanthropist? Use Liam’s money to do some good then? I don’t know.”

“Maybe.”

“Or maybe he just grew out of his rebellious phase?”

“Mmmm. I don’t know, Ni.” Louis starts pacing, trying to fit all the puzzles pieces that constitute Harry Styles into something coherent. “The target is in denial, always in control, I can’t reconcile the guy from here--” (he points to the article. “--and the one there” (he gestures towards the other room.) He stops, staring intently at the door separating them from Harry, a plan forming in his mind.

Louis spends such a long time thinking about Harry after, he almost misses the way Niall spends half an hour trying to convince Casey that he’s ready for field work. He reminds Louis of Joey from “Friends”, trying out disguises and accents, each one as bad as the next. Casey giggles throughout all of them, she ends up bent in half in laughter on the floor at some point. Louis doesn’t really pay attention.

“What do you think, Lou? Am I rocking this Pro Golfer costume or what?”

“You’ll be the first one on the field the day we get a call for Tiger Wood’s wife. Or you know, Tiger Woods himself,” Louis answers distractedly, tapping Niall’s shoulder. Niall beams.

“Now back to the task at hand, yeah? Harry Styles? Curly, hot, witty and mysterious?”

Casey eyes him weirdly, still a little hiccupy from the laughing. He’s about to ask what that look is about when Niall shrieks.

“Oh dear mother of God.” Niall averts his eyes from the computer. Harry is there on the video, in the bathroom, getting rid of his clothing to shower.

“Oh hello gorgeous,” Casey coos, “He’s hot as fuck, Lou.”

Louis’ feet shuffle forward on their own accord and as he leans down so he can watch the footage up close, his breath catches in his throat. Harry is strikingly beautiful, Louis can admit it. In the empirical sense that is, he is objectively beautiful. It’s nerve wracking how soft his skin appears even on grainy grey footage, and how Louis fingers ache to trace every one of his tattoos. Louis is not attracted to Harry, not really. It’s much like what he feels when he’s in a museum, and the want to reach out and touch the art, it’s always almost unbearable for him being allowed to look but never touch, that’s all there is to it.

Goosebumps scatter all over Louis’ arms, he has to wish them away by balling his fists against his thighs. As Harry is about to remove his boxers and step into the spray, Louis snaps out of it. Has to. The idea of having a peak at Harry’s cock and watching the droplets travel down Harry’s body suddenly too overwhelming for him to contemplate.

He clears his throat as Niall slaps the computer shut in irritation to Casey’s dismay and Louis’ relief. “Give me his flaws, now.” Casey pouts and hands him a post it note.

“He’s a Beach Boys fan, he loves ‘Grease’ and he eats fajitas for breakfast.” Louis looks up, incredulous. “He has a bad back? Is that it? Are you kidding?”

“Yeah.” She shrugs. “Wait. At age twenty, he was accepted to Cambridge Law school then disappeared for a year, just after the bike ride actually,  and when he came back, he forgot all about law school and started culinary school.”

“Out of the blue?”

“Yeah.”

“That’s interesting. What did he do that year?” Louis wonders.

“We don’t know. Even his mother doesn’t.” Fuck, that’s inconvenient. They’re on a timetable here. Casey tugs at Louis’ sleeve then, a weird -hopeful?- look on her face, or is it awe? “He loves ‘Grease’ though.”

Louis bites the inside of his cheek, because otherwise he’d grin like a fool. “Yeah. Eagle loves ‘Grease’.”

“Eagle, huh?” Casey flutters her eyelashes in delight.

“What?” Louis bats her away bashfully then. “It’s just a good code name for this target is all.”

“Since when do we code name the targets?” Niall asks, and Casey rolls her eyes at his obliviousness.

Louis deflects. “I’m gonna have to brush up on those choreographies though.” Louis wiggles his eyebrows at Niall, delighted at the mere thought. This might be the best thing about Harry Styles he’s learned so far. And that includes the shower. The team truly loves Grease.

“You were a mean Danny Zucko, man.”

“And you were a fine Kenickie, Ni.”

They high five, Casey however has never been good at third wheeling though. They are the three musketeers after all. “Hey, I was the best Rizzo that ever graced that forsaken stage, okay?”

Louis gives her a one armed hug that she leans into with a fond smile.

“Yeah, you were.”

 

**

 

_I got chills_

_They're multiplying_

_And I'm losing control_

_'Cause the power you're supplying_

_It's electrifying!_

 

The Grease song is blasting from the computer speakers and Louis has the whole room to himself. The furniture has been pushed around so he has room to rehearse his dance moves, the living room area being turned into a makeshift dancefloor. He got rid of his shirt when it started sticking to his back because of the exercise. He’s also shoeless, like he often is but this time it’s because the beige carpet is really fluffy and licking pleasantly at his toes.

He’s been doing the choreography from memory, happy that he still ‘got it’ even though, he was more flexible back in uni. Still he can hold his own to impress a fellow Grease fan, even when he’s a little out of shape. At least he hopes so. He’s interrupted when a panicked Casey barges in with Niall in tow.

“Lou! Fuck, we have a problem! Eagle has left the nest!”

“What the hell guys! You were supposed to watch him!” Does Louis have to do everything himself? Apparently so. Casey hands him the shirt he has discarded earlier and that was hanging over the loveseat. “Where are my shoes?” He asks hastily, putting on the shirt, and already running to the door.

“I don’t know!”

When he reaches the hotel lobby, breathless, white shirt hanging open and shoeless, he spots Harry climbing into a cab. There’s a second where they make eye contact and Harry actually smirks at him. He’s wearing big black sunglasses that make him look a little like a fly because they hide half his face, a black leather jacket with a simple white T-shirt and he’s sporting a scarf as a headband. And then he’s gone.

Louis puts his earpiece on, and starts running.

“He left in a black cab!” Louis shouts to the team, already breathless as he runs down the street as fast as he can.

 _“Model?”_ Casey says from behind her computer, surely already hacking into the police traffic camera surveillance system.

“How the hell should I know! Find him.”

_“Copy that.”_

As the taxi takes a left, Louis notices Harry has rolled his window down, he puts his sunglasses atop his head. “Catch me if you can!” He giggles then, boyish and crinkly eyed and suddenly looking so much younger than he usually appears. Louis is momentarily caught off guard.

The taxi’s tires scream then and Harry evaporates. In Louis’ line of vision, there’s a bicycle that he doesn’t even bat an eyelash about stealing. Dancing, running and now biking? This is the most exercice Louis has done in months, Harry is really giving him a run for his money. As he pedals like his life depends on it, wind licking at his bare torso, Harry’s giggle still resonates in Louis’ ears. It’s engraved into his brain, ricocheting into his skull. It might be one of the sweetest sounds he has ever heard. He has to slalom between the cars in the heavy Parisian traffic, he might be able to catch up soon.

 _“Okay I see you.”_ Casey’s voice pulls Louis out of his reverie.

“Don’t find me! Find him!”

 _“Okay, Okay! Jeez. Wait! I have a visual on Eagle!”_ Niall says, triumphant. _“He’s heading towards Place de la Concorde!”_

“Do I look like I have GPS on this bike, Niall?” Louis pants, pedalling harder.

After receiving the instructions he was waiting for, he finally spots the cab, a little further down the road, heading towards the Seine. Feeling the ache in his thighs and the sweat running down the side of his jaw, he curses the day Harry Styles was born.

Harry disappears into the last of an array of tourists that is embarking on a river boat about to leave any second. When he finally reaches them, Louis practically jumps off the bike and starts running towards the boat that has just weighed anchor and left the dock. Without thinking, Louis jumps and by pure luck, manages to barely grasp on the railing of the boat, struggling to get aboard.

Sweaty and pumped full of adrenaline, Louis spots the back of Harry’s head at the bow of the boat.

“You can’t get rid of me that easily, Curly.” Out of breath, Louis snatches Harry’s arm, to make the taller man face him but when he turns around the guy who’s wearing Harry’s headscarf, his shades and his jacket is in fact _not_ Harry.

Louis is confused until he spots a figure not that far on the quayside, waving and smirking and blowing him a kiss, sans jacket, sans sunglasses, sans headscarf.

Harry.

This bitch.

 

**

 

Louis is pacing before the Hilton entrance, waiting for Harry to come out. Eagle will be there any minute now that the team finally managed to locate him. Once Harry passes him on the pavement, completely ignoring him for that matter, Louis starts ranting. Harry doesn’t even stop to listen.

“Listen to me. Like it or not, your mother hired me to ensure your safety. I’ve been doing this job for eight years and no one ever treated me with so much disrespect as you--”

Harry deserves the scolding in Louis’ opinion. No one has ever given him such a hard time before. Louis is using the most reproachful tone he can muster, waving an accusing finger centimeters from Harry’s face so Harry’s clear amusement is not justified. Oh he’s trying to hide it, Louis can see that, but you can’t teach an old dog like Louis new tricks. There’s a dimple on Harry’s cheek that is fighting very hard to make an appearance before Harry’s resolve gets the better of it and he starts walking away from Louis like he’s nothing more than a nuisance.

For Louis, it proves very hard to follow Harry’s long strides without running but there’s no way in hell he’ll stoop that low for anyone.

Even for Harry fucking Styles.

Instead he does something as equally undignified and shouts after Harry.

“--so if you don’t want me here--”

Harry stops in his tracks and turns around then, both eyebrows raised expectantly. All humour has left his features, there’s something cold and distant radiating from him again, even if a soft curl has escaped his bun, making him look well-- soft. It’s a little unsettling how fast his demeanor can change without altering his beauty in the slightest. Louis catches up to him a moment later.

“It’ll be fifty thousand.” Louis mumbles, looking away.

“Pardon?” The smirk on Harry’s face tells Louis he’s heard him just fine.

“Five days times four thousand make twenty. Plus thirty for contract breach. It’ll be fifty K.”

Harry eyes Louis for a moment, then snorts and instead of replying, takes out a chequebook.

“I knew a good day sailing would make you come to your senses.” Without a second thought, Harry slips the cheque in Louis dress shirt pocket and taps over it twice. The touch ignites a spike of electricity at the point of contact for Louis. He just hasn’t been touched in awhile is all.

“Great.”

“Wait. What about my mum?” Harry inquires.

“I’ll tell her I’m keeping an eye on you.”

“Perfect, then.” There’s a beat of silence in which Harry shuffles awkwardly from foot to foot, not knowing what he wants to do next. “Goodbye then.” Is Harry flushing? Louis can’t find out because Harry is already gone. Bloody long legs that shouldn’t look as graceful as they do.

“Hey, Harry!” Louis shouts after him. “Your mum? She just wants you to be happy, you know?”

Harry doesn’t stop, neither does he look back.

 

**

 

Harry climbs into his rented sportscar, free at last of Louis Tomlinson. He’s headed to the wedding venue, where he’s supposed to meet his wedding planner to go over the exhaustive to do list. As he drives through the crowded Paris avenues then the more narrow streets on the way eventually leading to Vaux de Cernay Abbey, he’s forced to a stop when there’s someone lying on the ground in the middle of the road, blocking his way.

He doesn’t have time to ponder on what he should do because suddenly, the car window is smashed to smithereens beside him. Then a gloved hand is closing on his throat, constricting his airway for a second until he’s forced out of the car and thrown onto the ground.

“Give me your wallet! Your watch! Now!” The masked man screams into Harry’s ear, thick italian accent coloring his voice. Harry can’t move. He’s immobilized, panic taking over and prickling at the back of his neck, making his limbs feel like jelly, and his brain like melted cheese. Then, the aggressor takes advantage of Harry’s stupor, steals his belongings and climbs into his car, puts into gear and leaves him there on the pavement.

In an instant, as if by magic, Louis is there running after the moving vehicle like some kind of modern superhero. The car does a 180 and suddenly Louis is on the windshield, struggling to stay there. What is unfolding in front of Harry’s eyes belongs in an action movie, It’s like a war of titans, man against metal. And Louis? Louis is holding his own. Harry is completely speechless.

A minute later, they’re out of view.

 

**

 

The stolen car comes to a gentle stop and Louis can finally put his feet back on solid ground again. His pulse is racing with the sudden rush of adrenaline; he always was partial to stunt work. As Nall comes out of the car and removes his mask, visibly very proud of himself, Louis fixes his suit and tries to catch his breath. His fringe is sticking to his forehead with sweat and he needs a drink. Badly.

“Not so bad, huh?” Niall beams. “My accent was spot on, did you hear?”

Louis very much doubts that it was but Niall is eager and willing, Louis can give him that. Unfortunately, now is not the time for a play by play of Niall’s field work.

“Give me his things back, Ni.” Louis pants. Niall hands him the wallet and the expensive watch but when Louis proceeds to head back, Niall is not so quick to comply.

“Hey, don’t be a dick. I was gentle with Eagle like you asked me to.”

Louis sighs. “Okay, your accent was ace.”

“Nah, it was shit.” If Niall didn’t give him a toothy grin, Louis would think he was in need reassurance. “But you’re going to need a shiner now to make it believable.” Niall tilts his head sideways.

“Huh?”

It’s a little annoying that Louis didn’t see it coming, Niall’s fist connecting with his cheekbone then. By the feel of it, he has put all his weight behind it too, the fucker. Louis falls on the ground by the force of it. “Arrrrgghhh.” Louis whimpers, holding his face in pain. “I fucking hate you, I can’t believe you went for my trademarked cheekbone.”

“Got your nose too.” Niall cracks his knuckles and barks out a laugh at Louis’ misfortune. “Let me have a look.” After careful inspection, Niall’s verdict is in. “You giant baby, It’s nothing.”

“My nose is broken, ow.”

“You always had a crooked nose, If anything it’s straighter now! Unlike you.”

There’s no way in hell Louis is going to laugh at this awful joke and it doesn’t have anything to do with the throbbing pain over the side of his face.

 

**

Harry, still upset and startled, has managed to scramble to his feet at last in the deserted street when Louis drives by him, bringing back the car. Louis’ sporting a shining bruise that looks painful and Harry can’t really refrain from touching it once Louis is out of the car.

“You okay?” Harry asks, voice hoarse and dipped in worry, his eyes are wide and he looks more open and sincere than he’s ever been before. “You’re bleeding.” Louis winces at the touch even if Harry’s fingertips are gentle on his cheek.

He grabs at Harry’s wrist, squeezing, like he would if he wanted to make sure he’s really there. “I’m alright. Are you okay?” Louis schools his features so he appears sick with worry, voice soft like cotton. He looks Harry intently, straight in the eye and what he finds there is a man startled with green eyes so clouded they appear almost grey. It strikes Louis how close they’re standing.

“Yeah, I’m-- just a little shocked, I guess.”

Louis nods in understanding. Harry sighs heavily, applying the hem of his pristine designer shirt onto Louis’ bruise, to wipe the blood. It’s just a light pressure of careful touches upon Louis’ face, but for a moment Louis closes his eyes, just letting Harry take care of him. “Thank you,” Louis whispers once Harry finishes his ministrations, suddenly breathless without any valid reason.

“No, thank _you_.” Harry insists earnestly. He bites at the inside of his cheek, seemingly pondering something, and then he reaches out to snatch the corner of the check that is still poking out of Louis’ front pocket. He tears it in two and pockets it himself. As he heads to the car, hips swaying, he says over his shoulder--

“So? Are you coming or what?”

 

**


	4. Chapter 4

 

_“If your heart is a volcano, how do you expect flowers to bloom?”_

__\- Khalil Gibran_ _

 

 

Silence fills the car as they drive to the wedding venue. Louis is tapping on the steering wheel in rhythm with the song playing on the radio, it’s not really that catchy but Louis is still buzzing with nervous energy. It always takes a while for him to come down from the high after a stunt and this one was quite straining, even before Niall’s left swing. The bruise beneath his eye is pulsing and making him wince from time to time.

He casts a sideway glance at Harry who is looking through the window, pensive and quiet, his hands neatly folded on his lap. Louis wouldn’t guess he’s nervous if it wasn’t for him chewing on his bottom lip.

“We should decide on a signal,” Louis says, seriously. It’s important to take advantage of this moment to make his performance all the more believable. With that, he has once again, Harry’s attention.

“A signal?”

“Yes. A code, if you will. One you could use when you need me. You just say the word and I come instantly.”

Harry raises his eyebrows.

“I mean--” Louis plays coy, the innuendo was planned all along. “You know in case of danger. Um-- I know my job, okay? So.” Louis shakes his head as if he were fighting a blush.

“Wood tech,” Harry answers after careful consideration. He says it with his chin in his hand, his other arm wrapped around himself. 

“Seriously?”

“Wood tech. That’s my code.”

“What the--?”  Louis’ face is a cross between smiling and bewilderment.

“I used to be really good at wood tech in high school. And your crooked nose reminds me of my professor, her name was also Lou, coincidently.” By then Louis doesn’t even know if Harry is joking or not. If he’s serious or just has the driest humour ever.

“Everything in that sentence is just-- Pfffft.” Louis answers, very eloquently. It appears Harry Styles has a secret power and that it is the ability to render him speechless. How unfortunate for an improv actor.

 “My security, my signal.”

 “Alright, then.”

 A few minutes later, Louis spots the breadvan in the rearview as static followed by Niall’s voice start resonating in Louis’ in ear. _“About ready when you are, boss.”_

 As if on cue, Louis changes the radio station and Niall’s voice can suddenly be heard loud and clear inside the car. He’s trying to speak in english with a french accent. Needless to say, it’s horrendous. “Zis is Mike and I will be your anchor today. I hope you will enjoy ze music selection for ze day as I choze it meself, here are Ze Beach Boys!”

 ‘Wouldn’t it be nice’, Harry’s favorite song, immediately starts playing on the radio and Louis begins humming along at once.

 

_Wouldn't it be nice if we were older?_

_Then we wouldn't have to wait so long_

_And wouldn't it be nice to live together_

_In the kind of world where we belong_

  _You know it's gonna make it that much better_

_When we can say goodnight and stay together_

 

Louis notices Harry’s finger tapping to the beat on his knee even if it’s discreet enough to be inconspicuous. By the chorus Louis has gone from humming to full on singing along.

 

_Wouldn't it be nice if we could wake up_

_In the morning when the day is new?_

_And after having spent the day together_

_Hold each other close the whole night through_

 

Harry gives him a blank stare but Louis chooses to ignore it. It’s bound to be working. He’s an awesome performer and he can fucking sing, alright?

 

_Happy times together we've been spending_

_I wish that every kiss was never ending_

_Wouldn't it be nice?_

 

“Sorry,” Louis finally mumbles under Harry’s condescending gaze, suddenly feeling very small.

 

_Maybe if we think, and wish, and hope, and pray, it might come true_

_Baby, then there wouldn't be a single thing we couldn't do_

 

Harry turns his face away from Louis. Staring out the windows, he mouths the next verse, the rhythmical tip of his head gives him away.

 

_We could be married_

_And then we'd be happy_

_(Sleep tight oh baby goodnight_

_Ooh baby sleep tight oh baby)_

 

The grin that splits Harry’s face next is blinding. Louis’ plan is finally back on track.

  

**

 

Once they arrive at the venue, Louis is daunted by the location’s majesty. The old abbey has been converted into something both enchanting and intimidating, making its eight centuries of history show in every stone and buttress.  It’s all given an impossibly softer quality by the white flowers arranged everywhere inside the impressive foyer, that mirror the wide flower gardens outside. After the quick tour with Tabitha, the wedding planner, to show Harry that every last one of his wishes have been taken into account, they go back outside where an array of waiters are waltzing around in some kind of choreographed dance making sure everything is ready for the wedding.

It’s different than what Louis anticipated, based on the idea of Harry that Louis crafted for himself in his head. He doesn’t know why, but he imagined Harry wanting to tie the knot in a rather contemporary, almost sterile, polished environment and this place is anything but. Besides the flowers filling the air with the most exquisite smell, the fabric of the table cloths and the collection of candles give the venue an elegant, almost  homey vibe. It’s still posh and it’s still grandiose but it’s also kind of a mess (like Louis’ mind right now), most of all it’s really _really_ beautiful.

 “You like it?” Harry asks Louis, smiling privately.

“It’s-- beautiful.” Louis answers truthfully. Just like the man standing in front of him.

 The phone vibrating from the confines of Louis’ pocket prevents him from saying more. It’s Simon, probably wanting an update for Anne. As Louis stops to pick up, Harry continues forward, greeted by three women, each one kissing him on both cheeks.

_“So? Did he fall for you yet?”_ Simon asks without preamble.

“I’m on it.” What he does? It’s art. When are people going to understand that art can’t be rushed? It’s annoying. Louis sighs. “It would go a lot faster if you gave me all the information. What happened when he took a gap year?”

_“I pay you to act, not to ask questions.”_ It’s Anne who replies, indicating he was on speaker. She hangs up on Louis. Great. Now he pissed off the client. This is turning out to be a great mission all around.

“Okey Dokey, then,” he mumbles to the bush he’s about to take a wee into. What? A man has needs, and there’s no one around. He can clearly hear Harry’s out of this world low voice talking from further down the garden.

He’s mid-wee when Louis hears it.

“Wood tech.” A pause. And then a second time, louder. “Wood tech!”

“Shit. Fuck!” Realisation striking finally, Louis struggles to tuck himself in, and run towards where Harry’s voice is coming from at the same time. He has a little bit of wee on his shoes and hands but he couldn’t care less, his heart is pounding in his ears. As he charges in, shoes slipping onto the gravel, he finds Harry seated on a terrace, sipping leisurely on a fruity cocktail with two women from the venue trying to hide their laughter.

“See, Jacky, KK?” Harry says innocently, batting his eyelashes from behind his straw. There’s something boyish in his expression, mixed with teasing that makes one dimple pop out, it’s an interesting mix to say the least. “I just shout _wood tech_ and he just comes running. Amazing, right?”

The women scoff. Louis bites back his response.

This man is going to give Louis an ulcer at this rate.

 

**

  

“He’s a little shit!” Louis rants, back at the Hilton, pacing in front of the hotel’s pool, where Casey is posing as a lifeguard and Niall as a waiter. Louis stands out just a tad, wearing his rumpled business suit when it’s 28 degrees celsius outside and he looks completely disheveled to say the least. He hasn’t shaved in two days, his tie is crooked and his hair a jumbled of knots he’s sure, what he doesn’t know however is how the fuck he’s going to get through to Harry Styles and seduce the pants off him. So to speak.

“He is,” Niall agrees, putting two cocktails in front of customers with a wink. “I like him a lot!”

“Shut up!” They’re not supposed to like the targets for fuck’s sake. “He’s making my job so much harder!”

Casey, who’s perched on a high chair wearing a red bathing suit with a whistle around her neck is quick to butt in.  “Oh come on! Stop complaining! You’ve been saying the job was getting too easy for months now.”

She’s right about that. It’s been awhile since a job made his pulse quicken or his insides flutter. But this mission? It’s different, it feels new and refreshing and so, so, so nerve wracking because Louis relies on his gut feeling most of the time and is usually able to be one step ahead. That’s not the case here. The worst is that he’s starting to like this fluttering, excited feeling, no matter how unreliable and cluttered it may be, and that might be the scariest thing ever.

“Let’s break the AC tonight. We’ll see if he keeps screwing with me then.” Louis laughs humorlessly, running a tired hand in his hair for the twentieth time that day.

“You know Casey is right though?” Niall ponders, approaching Louis with a ridiculous apron around his waist. “You tend to give up at the first bump in the road--”

The subject is soon dropped by Casey scolding the children passing by in impeccable french. “Brittany! India! On ne court pas autour de la piscine! [Brittany! India! No running near the pool!]”

The boys give her a blank stare.

“What? I’m just doing my job.”

 

**

 

Back in his room, Harry is shivering, teeth clattering, the duvet hanging off of his broad shoulders and trying to explain his problem to who he believes is the reception desk worker for the past five minutes.

“You don’t understand. My AC has turned on by itself and it’s now stuck. It’s freezing here.”

“I will send someone to fix it immediately Mister Styles,” Casey answers in her most professional tone.

“Thanks. Hurry please.”

A few minutes later, Niall is on Harry’s doorstep, clad in a plumber outfit, ready for his first real role. “There you are, thank god, this way please,” Harry greets Niall, then steps aside to lead the way for him. Casey and Louis are watching him through the camera feed, refraining from biting their nails. A lot is hanging on Niall’s shoulders after all, and he hasn’t any conclusive field work under his belt. Louis however gave him the pep talk of his life a few minutes prior, giving his best friend his entire support and trust. Watching the monitor, he’s beginning to have second thoughts.

“Wait. What the fuck is this? Is he wearing a wig?” Casey’s says wide eyed and as alarmed as Louis is feeling. “And what the hell? Is he-- limping? Did you ask him to?”

No. Of course he hasn’t. The Nialler went off the grid and improvised here, forgetting that improv is reserved for more experienced comedians such as himself. Louis sighs internally and resumes watching the scene. As planned, Niall proceeds to break down the air conditioning system completely. There’s even water splashing from the pipes all over the room. At least he got that right.

“Monsieur. Pleaze. Say nothing. Pleaze. I’m new to job. I ave tree small children,” Niall begs, hands joined under his chin, using a thick fake Polish accent that make Louis’ ear bleed. “They send back me in Poland. Please Monsieur. I fix, okay? Pleaze?”

And that’s Louis’ cue to enter the room through the adjoining door.

“Is there a problem here?” Louis asks, inquiring eyes going from Harry to Niall expectantly. Niall shoots Harry another pleading look.

“No,” Harry concedes, voice small and regretful. He’s chewing on his lower lip. “No problems here at all.”

So Harry is not about to get the poor man fired. Good. He calls the reception again, clearly looking for another solution that doesn’t involve freezing to death or drowning in air conditioning water. Casey is yet again on the other side of the line.

“Listen, I can’t explain why but I need another room,” Harry almost murmurs, avoiding eye contact with Louis at all cost.

_“I’m sorry Mister Styles but we’re completely booked. And if there’s nothing wrong with your room, I’m afraid--”_ Casey says over the phone, trying for a regretful tone.

“Okay. Thanks I guess.” Harry sighs. Sat on his bed, the tight line of his mouth matches his eyebrows. It’s in moments like these - when he can be the hero - that Louis strikes.

“I can give you my room.” Louis helpfully offers, on script. “I’ll sleep in the car, it’s no bother, I’m used to it anyway.”

Just as predicted, Harry takes the bait. “Don’t be ridiculous, you’re not going to sleep outside.” Harry looks up, meeting Louis’ gaze. “I-- thank you. There’s plenty of room. You could sleep on the couch? You don’t snore, do you?” Louis huffs and silently gestures for Harry to follow him.

Louis’ room has been staged earlier for this moment of course. It looks lived in but not as messy as it was with the team living there. Every file, every surveillance photo has been carefully put away to give the impression that Louis occupies this room alone.

“Let me just--” As Louis pretends to clear out some things from the bed, the ‘Grease’ DVD conveniently falls at his feet.

“What’s that?” Harry ponders, cocking his head to the side.

“Um. Nothing.” Louis snatches the dvd case and keeps it close to his chest, just like he would if he’d been caught with porn under his bed.

“Come on.” Harry extends his hand and puts it on top of Louis’, smile small but there. “Don’t be ashamed. I love that movie.” Harry’s hand is soft and warm which strikes Louis as odd since he was shivering mere minutes ago.

“Really?” Louis forces his body to relax. “Oh. What a coincidence.” It feels weird to say the truth for once. Harry has yet to remove his hand.

“Yeah. It’s my favorite.”

There’s a moment there, when they openly stare at each other, and it reminds Louis of when Harry touched his face this morning. Something in the way Harry looks at him, unblinking and intense makes Louis feel like Harry’s staring straight into Louis’ soul. Like he’s seconds away from uncovering all of Louis’ deepest secrets, as irrational as it sounds. Harry doesn’t have X-ray vision for god’s sakes.

Louis’ eyes widen considerably. “I pictured you more as the foreign movie type.” Louis says dumbly, voice gone hoarse without his prompting and that’s another truth that makes its way out of his mouth too. If Louis didn’t investigate that’s exactly what he would’ve thought about Harry’s movie taste at first glance, now he’s not so sure.

“I pictured you as the action movie type.” Harry replies, unblinking. They break apart a minute later, when Harry loosens his grip. Louis draws his hand back then, even if a part of him doesn’t want to let go. “We can-- we can watch it. If-- if you want.”

Wait, why is Louis nervous? This is totally what they planned to happen. So why is his stomach fluttering all of a sudden as if a thousand butterflies were trying to find their way out of there? It’s distracting is what it is. It’s-- not good. And Louis feeling elated and flushed doesn’t seem like a good omen either.  

 

**

 

It’s already dark outside when the movie starts. Louis disabled his in ears and dimmed the light “for ambience” purposes, he claimed, but in reality he knows what he’s doing. He’s a professional, and this isn’t much different that what dating in high school looks like. Except Harry went and changed into ‘something more comfortable’ meaning sweats and a band t-shirt and he took a moment to untangle his hair with a brush in front of the mirror and Louis felt like he didn’t breathe the whole time Harry did it. Now, they’re both seated on the edge of the bed, Harry cross legged and Louis leaning back on his forearm. 

Louis should be watching the movie. Instead, he watches the way the reflection of the tv washes over the side of Harry’s face. It’s just that-- Harry looks impossibly soft right now, hair loose and eyes shining green and gold, beckoning Louis like a lighthouse. He’s been leaning closer to Harry without really realising it. Even though, it’s exactly what he’s supposed to do anyway.

“I love this part.” Harry smiles sheepishly, eyes barely leaving the screen as Danny starts his choreography on top of Grease Lightning. “John Travolta in that scene is how I realised I was into boys.”

“Same for me.” Another truth. Louis should start counting them.

Harry looks back at Louis and draws in a breath like he’s about to say something but he’s interrupted by Niall barging in and killing the moment. “Me finish morning. Thank you for small children.”

“Oh. no problem.” Harry clears his throat, sitting straighter. “I think I’m gonna sleep now Louis if you don’t mind. I’m tired.”

“Yeah, um, sure, okay.”

Louis isn’t sure of what just happened but one thing is clear, if this mission is a success it will be despite Niall Horan’s helping hand and not thanks to.

 

**

 

Harry is sleeping. In boxers and a T-shirt. In Louis’ bed. And that.

Well.

Louis has been watching him perched on the loveseat for the past two hours, in the least creepy way possible of course, and now the duvet is tangled in Harry’s legs. He looks very peaceful splayed on his belly with his arms tucked under the pillow and his chest moving regularly in rhythm with his breathing. It’s soothing is all. Watching Harry is soothing. It makes all the noise and static usually ricocheting inside of Louis’ head quieten down for a while.

Louis can’t sleep. He’s still dressed, even though his dress shirt is wrinkled and opened down three buttons. He wonders if Harry would look as beautiful from up close and doesn’t realise he’s right there verifying that theory until, he’s literally _right there_. Close and almost breathing the same air as Harry.

Lips slightly open, serenity washes over Harry’s face. Yep, Harry is nothing short of beautiful with his hair splayed onto the pillow like this. Needless to say Louis is startled when Harry rolls over and catches him staring.

“What are you doing?” Harry asks, one eye open, voice hoarse from sleep. He’s mostly still asleep, lax and pliant. And he looks warm. There’s actual heat radiating off of him, if that’s even possible.

“Nothing. Um. You snore.”

“Oh.” Harry blinks. “You too.”

Louis takes a step back then, fully aware he was in Harry’s space, squatting down to be level with him. What the fuck is wrong with him?  

“You can’t know that, you were sleeping,” Louis replies, a million years too late. “Besides I have to make sure the perimeter is secure.”

Again, Louis has to ask himself what the fuck is wrong with him _._

“I’m perfectly safe here. You can relax now, Louis. Get some sleep, you look like you need it.” Harry yawns, stretching his body and releasing a soft content sigh at the same time. An angel may or may not have gotten their wings just now.

Despite Harry’s prompting, Louis doesn’t fall asleep for a long time and he can’t for the life of him figure out why.

 

**

 

When morning comes, Louis decides that he should get his plan back on track. Not like it went  off the rails or anything but, yeah, well, it’s time to move things forward a little and sort his head out, and breakfast is absolutely the way to go here.

As Harry slowly stirrs out of sleep, morning daylight making his skin glow, Louis pushes the tray in the middle of the room. “I took the liberty of ordering you breakfast.” Croissants, eggs, but also... Harry’s favorite. 

Harry sits up at the smell. “Did you order-- fajitas?” His voice is deep and mellow, like it has been dipped in honey.

“I’m sorry about the smell. I just love fajitas in the morning.” Louis says quickly, voice way too high, tense energy clashing with the slowness of Harry’s movements.

Harry smiles shyly but doesn't comment.

They eat in silence, but Louis is thankful that the meal is pretty disgusting (he’s usually on a strict diet of coco pops in the morning), it distracts him from all the things he could be focusing on instead of the spicy food.

 

**

 

Harry likes to start his day with a jog, Louis learned during the early days of the stake outs. And this morning is no different, so naturally, as his bodyguard, Louis joins him. He’s in shape, Harry, judging by how often he works out but also from how toned his arse is. What? Louis is not blind. It’s his job to be detail oriented, alright? And it’s not like he can look anywhere else at the moment anyway.

“You don’t have to run ten feet behind me, you know?” Harry breaks the silence.

“I’m just securing the perimeter,” Louis protests, “I’m your bodyguard, it’s my job to, you know, guard your body!” He gestures wildly.

Louis is not the athlete Harry is but he can hold his own, even if, granted, his jogging attire has seen better days compared to Harry’s expensive spotless clothes. Harry’s long legs have been hitting the pavement at a steady pace, for the past thirty minutes and Louis is having a little trouble keeping up with him.

Choosing an itinerary avoiding crowded streets heading to Montmartre was smart, or else they would be avoiding people like it’s an obstacle race instead of just running. Harry’s starting to break a sweat whereas Louis’ footie days are way behind him so he feels like a Basset Hound forced to sprint, the only thing missing being the dangling tongue. There are a lot of stairs involved when they reach the Sacré Coeur Basilica and Louis  is breathless.

“If your legs are too short to keep up you can just say so,” Harry singsongs, successfully reading Louis’ mind. He picks up the pace then, grunting internally, until he catches up with Harry. “Thank fuck. You staring at my arse was starting to feel a little awkward.” Harry says playfully, and Louis flushes (he never flushes) like he’s been caught elbow deep in the cookie jar. There’s no point denying it now though right?

“Well, it’s a nice arse,” Louis mumbles.

When Harry laughs, it’s a real genuine laugh for the first time since Louis’ met him. One that makes him tilt his head back and expose the column of his throat, one that resonates inside of Louis’ ears, rendering him dizzy and startled. As they reach the top of the hill, Louis swallows his pride down and asks for a break.

“The view from up here is amazing,” Louis says panting, referring to the vastness of the city of Paris showing off her best assets down below. It feels like they’re halfway between the ground and the sky.

“Yeah, I know a nice restaurant right over there. Chez Silvia.” Harry smiles, but it doesn’t reach his eyes. “They have the most delicious dessert selection, I always wanted to go.”

“Oh, you’ve never been there before?”

It’s a renowned restaurant, not nearly as posh as what Harry is accustomed to. One Louis knows well.

“No. Just-- I knew someone who always said they were going to take me to taste their lemon meringue and we never got the chance to.”

Louis nods knowingly despite having zero clue as to who Harry is referring to. For the millionth time he curses for not having enough time to prep thoroughly for the mission. Wouldn’t be the first time he had to fill in the blanks on the spot. This little piece of information Harry offers willingly is his cue to start his usual bonding bullshit that’s supposed to resonate within the target and make them feel like Louis understands them on a deeper level. He may have to bring out the tears for this one. He’s ready. Harry’s bum in those leggings was beginning to make him teary anyway.

“My dad was like that too. Always promising to take me with him to footie games--” Louis looks away, conjuring the tears. He lets out a dry sob for good measure and sneaks a peak in Harry’s direction to gauge his reaction. He’s looking at Louis intently, his brow furrowed.  “He died before we got the chance. He was very sick and--” For a second there, Louis is stunned at how he’s just blurted out the truth and the feelings the words incite are...emotional.  For real. He’s still fake crying, but underneath there’s something else, something dizzying, something that makes him put his head on Harry’s shoulder who takes a little step back, to maintain his balance.

In the intercom Niall is completely baffled. _“I can’t believe you’re telling the truth about your dad, man. You never do that!”_

“I’m so sorry.” Harry says, sincere and a little wary. He’s tapping on Louis’ back awkwardly, trying to console the sobbing mess that is Louis at the moment.

“I was just a child.” Louis cries, big blue shining eyes meeting Harry’s troubled ones. He’s trying his best to ignore Casey’s pleas to tone it down. He’s on a roll here thank you very much, even if some of it is very, very real.

Harry takes Louis’ hand of his own volition. “It’s awful when people are taken from you before their time, I know.” He looks vulnerable, open and maybe even smaller, sharing that little part of himself, when he is usually  so guarded.

“I’m sorry, this is so unprofessional.” Louis dries his tears on his sleeve and appears to try and collect himself, hyper aware of Harry’s warm hand on top of his free one still.

“I know how you feel. My sister died a few years ago.”

What? How the hell didn’t he know about this? Losing someone that close, it changes you. It changed Louis for sure. He doesn’t have time to process this information and what it could potentially mean right now. What Louis does, while mentally preparing to strike the final blow, is squeeze Harry’s arm, because anchoring the target to the ground both physically and mentally always proved efficient in the past. He sighs heavily, but doesn’t have the time to even begin his monologue about love and abandonment because Harry’s face crumbles and he steps away from Louis’ embrace.

“Let’s go back, I have stuff to do.” Harry says, hard and a little too forcefully, the moment irredeemably broken.

“Yeah-- sure.” Louis doesn’t really know where he went wrong here, then again, this particular target -- Eagle-- _Harry--_ has defied most of Louis’ regular odds so far.

They resume jogging, side by side this time.

“Are you married?” Harry asks a few minutes later.

“No. I’m single.”

Harry huffs, “I’m not surprised.”

“What? Why-- Why would you say that?” Louis is genuinely confused now, he was so good! His charming self and all! Well his charming persona at least!

“A man in a relationship would know to brush their teeth after _fajita-ing_ in the morning.” Harry winks and picks up the pace leaving a stunned Louis is his wake.  Did Harry just...did he just insult Louis’ breath?  What?

Harry turns around a few meters away, running backward on the spot. “Are you coming or what?” He smiles, dimples making an appearance every time  he plays coy--not that Louis has been paying attention or anything. Louis grunts then, but smiles nonetheless, charmed beyond belief by the multifaceted man. He uses Harry’s momentary pause to take the advantage.  

He sprints past Harry and over his shoulder says, “Hey Harry?” Louis grins, spying Harry doing exactly what he thought he’d be doing, a newfound sense of elation pulsing beneath his skin. “My arse looks better than yours!”

When Harry rolls his eyes, obviously caught staring, his smile is so sweet it looks dipped in caramel. The way he shakes his head after betrays the fondness and Louis can’t help but think he’s finally _-finally-_ making progress. He just has to be careful to keep the butterflies in his stomach in check.

He can do this.

 

**

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sooo, how do you like it? next chappy should be up friday!


	5. Chapter 5

_“Porcelain, are you wasting away in your skin?”_

__\- Porcelain, Red Hot Chili Peppers_ _

 

 

Harry and Louis are about to go tasting the food and wine selection for the wedding and it makes a spark of excitement travel down Louis’ spine, the combination of alcohol and flirtation is generally a turning point in a mission, in Louis’ professional opinion at least.

Louis should have guessed things would take a turn for the worse as soon as he got hopeful though. He was never one to have good luck in the first place. As Louis opens the car door for Harry, the latter is tackled to the ground by two men. Louis who is after all trained in self defense (an occupational necessity) goes all Krav Maga on them and ends up with a knee on each of their throats pinned to the ground.

“Ghhhhh - _mate_ \- Gnnniiii what the fuck, urghhhhh” The taller one grunts, He’s all gangly legs, big teeth and tall quiff.

“Let them go, Louis.” Harry intervenes, frustration clear on his face, straightening his jacket and fixing his hair.

“Yeah, let us go, we’re Harry’s friends. I’m Zayn, the BFF!” The second guy pleads, from under Louis’ knee. He’s lean and handsome, arms covered in tattoos. His hair, shaved on one side falls on the other like a thick black curtain that makes him look both attractive and mysterious. He seems genuinely confused by the turn of events.

He can join the club in Louis’ opinion.

“Yeah, I’m Nick! His other best friend!” The other guy adds, pushing Louis away like he weighs nothing at all, getting up, a little offended and a lot rumpled.

“I haven’t seen you in six years, Nick,” Harry says eventually.

“Did you really think you were going to get hitched without me, mate?” Nick says easily, grabbing Harry’s cheek good heartedly, then proceeds to peck him on the mouth. “I have missed you, you cheeky bugger!”

“I had to bring the squad together one last time. You don’t mind, do you?” Zayn gives Harry a one armed hug. “I missed you too.”

If Harry wanted to protest the unannounced imposition, he doesn’t show it, instead his features melt into something almost fond, earnest and then gentle. “We had lunch last week, Z. I’m happy you’re here. Both of you.”

Nick envelopes them both in a group hug. The three of them are huffs and giggles for a a few seconds before Harry remembers Louis, still standing stiffly beside them, witnessing the whole ordeal.

“Errr, guys, this is Louis. My bodyguard, for the time being.”

“Do we want to know?” Zayn asks but Harry shakes his head hastily.

“A bodyguard, huh?” Nick cooes, “How very posh of you!” The way he circles Harry and approaches Louis in a half mocking half predatory way makes Louis’ skin crawl. “Does he wear sunglasses and stay completely still? Or is that a bouncer thing?” Being inspected from all angles like Louis is an animal in a cage at the zoo doesn’t help Louis’ mood one bit.

Harry snorts.

“I’m standing right here.” Louis deadpans, the tapping of his foot betraying the slightest hint of irritation.

“Do you think I could feed him mangoes and nuts?” Nick approaches, his face so close to Louis’ he has to fight the urge to stand back or just-- punch the guy. Personal space is a concept foreign to some people as it turns out. Thankfully,  Harry grabs Nick’s arm to make him take a step back, but it’s not to Nick’s liking however. “What? Was I rude? He’s very cute and tiny. I’d let you guard my body anytime, love!” Nick winks, making the implication very clear.  

Louis is now officially _really_ tired of this mission.

As they all make their way back inside the hotel lobby, Louis spots Casey, dressed as a cleaning lady and approaches her as inconspicuously as he can. When he start talking, his back to hers, impatience shows in his tone.

“Who’re they?”

“Zayn is the best friend, the dick is an old friend,” Casey answers, eyes trained down on the floor she’s thoroughly polishing.

“Why didn’t we know about them? What am I paying you for? We’re in trouble. This is going to set us back big time. We’re running out of time.”

Casey doesn’t answer his rant, but then again it didn’t call for a response. As Louis makes his way back to Harry and his friends, he has the chance to observe their dynamic. Hopefully, he’ll learn something useful.

“--Then I thought, either I keep getting sloshed with random dudes in L.A. or I answer Zayn’s texts and join my ex-best friend in his last hurrah before his death sentence! And here I am!” Nick explains, lighting up like a Christmas tree. His larger than life demeanor makes Louis want to yet again punch him a little bit-- well, a lot actually.

“You should’ve told me you were coming. I don’t know where you’re going to stay, the hotel is fully booked.”

“What are you on about? Nick just booked rooms for us, just beside yours, actually.” Zayn says, exposing the team lie. Thankfully, Harry doesn’t seem to connect the dots.

“Oh, about that, H, can you take care of it?” Nick bats his eyelashes at Harry. “I lost my credit card.”

“Of course you did.” Harry rolls his eyes. So does Louis, he can’t help it.

“I’m so happy to see you!” Nick suddenly picks Harry up in the air and twirls him. Even if Harry looks stiff like a mannequin, he lets it happen.

On their way back to the car, Zayn trails a little behind, grabbing Harry’s arm. Harry looks a little paler than earlier before they arrived, his brows are furrowed as he gives Zayn a serious look. “Hey, are you really happy to see us?”

Harry softens at the inquiry. “Of course Z. I love you-- you’re my best mate.”

“And Nick?”

Harry grimaces without malice.

“I mean I just thought it would be nice, like the good old days you know? When it was the three of us travelling through Europe.”

“He hasn’t changed at all, has he?” Harry smiles, shaking his head at his friend.

“Not one bit.” Zayn laughs.

 

** 

 

It’s already past noon when Harry, Louis, Zayn and Nick, all finally slip inside the car that will lead them to the restaurant that will cater for the wedding. Louis is driving, and to his horror, Nick called shotgun and is now sending him sleazy sideways looks that are anything but subtle. Nick’s gaze sweeps from Louis’ face to his crotch, with a slight raise of his eyebrows and and lick of his lips; he’s fidgeting on his seat.

Louis has to resist to urge to close his legs on instinct, he’s driving here.

In the back, Harry and Zayn are catching up quietly, Harry being seated behind Nick, places him perfectly in Louis' rearview mirror giving him ample opportunity to catch a glimpse of those eyes and that dimple without being outright creepy and staring like Nick.

“What’s going on? Are you alright?” Zayn, noticing Nick’s constant fidgeting, eventually asks Nick, leaning over to him with a concerned hand on his shoulder.

“It’s just. My cock feels tingly. Haven’t fucked in three whole days is all.” Harry chokes on air when Zayn is clearly amused.

“Maybe you have an STD,” Louis comments and that elicits a laugh from Zayn (even if Louis was being serious). Whereas Harry is flustered and-- the blush creeping up Harry’s neck and cheeks is nothing short of lovely-- Nick  barely bats an eyelash.

“You’re a feisty one, aren’t you?” Nick says, leaning into Louis’ space so his mouth is level with Louis’ ear. Creep. “It’s okay love. I like a challenge,” he murmurs suggestively. Harry intervenes then, tapping Nick shoulder, not so gently.

“Oh my god, Nick!” Harry hisses. “Would you chill? You are so embarrassing!” Nick completely ignores him.

A car ride never felt so long.

 

**

 

“What do you think, Mister Styles?” 

The ‘ _Sus’_ is a 4 stars Michelin rated restaurant, with an ambiance that mixes antique and contemporary, which in all honesty makes it look a lot more like modern art than any restaurant has any right to be. It’s posh, it’s chic and it’s stuffy but it’s fairly cluttered, with customers enjoying their meal in polite company. It’s a little stiff for Louis’ liking even if Harry looks completely in his element, tasting samples of wine. The only thing really clashing here is Nick getting sloshed on wine that costs more than most people’s average monthly salary.

The sommelier, a petite brunette named Océane, is waiting for Harry to make his verdict known about the glass of wine he’s holding in his hand, humming quite contentedly.

From where Louis is standing, a meter away from the table, he has a clear view of Harry’s profile. The way his lips purse, his nose scrunches and his eyes narrow when he concentrates on the wine’s different aromas might be the cutest thing Louis has ever witnessed in his entire life. And he had kittens growing up.

“I think the Cabernet Sauvignon is perfect with the fish, O.”

“It’ll taste even better on D-Day.” Océane beams, satisfied.

“Oh my god you got so boring, Haz.” Nick slurs then, tapping a languid hand on Harry’s arm, interrupting the exchange and absolutely not caring that he did.

There’s something to be said about the totally non apologetic way Nick behaves himself. Completely unaware -or is it uncaring- of what anyone would think of him and his demeanor in public. It clashes with the way Harry behaves himself, perfectly poised at all times. Right now for example, he’s seated, legs crossed and forearms on the table, back perfectly straight. The slight tick of Harry’s jaw is the only sign betraying what goes on to his mind. Louis wonders how Harry and Nick are even friends.

“Easy there, Nick.” Zayn interferes, lowering Nick’s glass of wine which is threatening to spill all over Harry’s designer trousers. “Do you like wine, Louis?” Zayn asks, shifting his attention to Louis to subtly change the subject and lighten the mood.

“I’m more of a beer guy myself.”

“Same here. Why don’t you come and sit with us. It would a little less weird.” Zayn’s already pushing the chair for him and making room for Louis between himself and Harry.

“Oh my god. You were standing up!” Nick mocks, batting his eyelashes. “You’re so short, I thought you were seated! You precious little thing.”

Louis glares. “I just look short in the back.” Green eyes follow his every movement, but Louis remains standing. Harry’s hands are clasped together around a glass that hides the lower half of his face. The burgundy offers a nice contrast to the emerald of Harry’s eyes, Louis notices.

“Thanks Zayn,” Louis shifts his attention back to Zayn. “I’d rather stand anyway. I have a bad back, I can’t stay seated for too long.”

“You have a bad back? Just like our Harry here.” Zayn’s eyes go soft when he talks about Harry. There’s something gentle and protective about it and right then and there Louis decides he likes Zayn.

“You have a bad back too?” Louis smiles his sheepish smile to Harry. “Funny that.”

“Yeah.” Harry seems puzzled. _Good._

Right on schedule, Hélène, the waitress Niall bribed a few hours earlier, hits Louis with a tray full of dishes right at the bottom of his spine. It’s staged of course and Louis is wearing protection under his suit that’s supposed to cushion the blow but it still hurts like a motherfucker and he falls to the ground with a thump, all the air suddenly leaving his lungs. Harry is on his feet and kneeling beside him in seconds.

“Oh my god, Louis! Are you alright?” He looks genuinely worried, hand roaming at the side of Louis’ arm in comfort.

“Yeeeah,” Louis croaks out.

“Come and sit.” Harry helps Louis stand then puts Louis’ arm on his shoulder and his own squeezes around Louis’ waist to steady and guide him to the chair. Before Louis can sit though, Nick is all over him.

“Where does it hurt?” Nick’s hands are just short of groping Louis’ bum.

“A little higher, Nick.” Louis hisses before pushing him away as inconspicuously as he can and hastily taking a seat beside Harry.

“I booked Harry a massage as an early present, maybe you should join him.” Nick suggests and it’s the best idea to come out of Nick’s mouth since they met. Nakedness and privacy away from the invading friends? That’s exactly what Louis needs to execute the next step of his plan, so he ignores the look Harry sends Nick and the way he stiffens at the offer. In the end, he accepts Nick’s offer even though Harry clearly wasn’t too keen on it.

 

** 

 

“The massage room will be ready for you any minute now.” The woman running the hotel spa informs them once they’re back. “Here are your slippers and your robes, you can change in the suite on your right. Your massage therapist will come and get you in just a few minutes.”

Harry’s surprise is written all over his face. “You mean rooms, plural and suites plural. R--right?”

The woman frowns. “I don’t understand sir, is there a problem with your couple’s massage?”

“ _Couple’s_ massage?!”

Louis resists the urge to snort at the way Harry just shrieked. He looks so precious. His face going from horrified, to shocked to embarrassed.

Louis’ team has arranged that. They also have ensured the spa is fully book so that’s exactly what the woman at the desk tells them when Harry tries to correct the mistake.

Louis winces a little, touching his lower back for effect. “Don’t worry about it Harry, go ahead and have your massage, I don’t need it. I’ll stand guard behind the door.”

Harry seems to hesitate, chewing on his bottom lip, that has turned cherry red and glistening from all the times Harry swiped his tongue over it during the afternoon. Not that Louis noticed or anything.

“But you’re hurt Louis, you need it.”

_Bingo._

“Won’t your fiancé mind?” Louis has learned to appear genuine, it’s never good to be too eager, and it’s never good to seem like you’re ready to snatch a target at every opportunity. It’s important for them to have the impression the decision is coming from them.

“He’s not the jealous type.”

“Funny that.” Louis smiles. The grin feels fake even to himself, uneasiness settling in his bones even if he’s the one that brought up Liam. He hopes Harry doesn’t notice.

“Why?”

Louis’ answer, not for the first time since he met Harry is off-script. “If I had you to call mine I wouldn’t want you to get a couple’s massage with someone else.”

The surprise shows in Harry’s eyes, widening ever so slightly, and his lips parting in shock. It may be the only honest thing Louis has said in three days regarding his feelings towards the whole situation. He finds he doesn’t mind being truthful for once. He’s also grateful that Casey and Niall managed to stay silent in his in ears for a long while now too.

Once they settle into the changing room, Harry sets his bag down on the bench.

“Um, I think if we turn our backs to each other we can make this almost not awkward at all?” Harry says, a bit choked and high pitched, laughing nervously at the tail end. He’s standing one leg crossed over the other in the middle of the room, hand scratching the back of his neck and staring at Louis. Louis leans his shoulder just a little more in the doorframe, charmed and endeared beyond belief.

“It’s a shame really. My arse looks better than yours anyway remember?” Louis winks and enters the room fully, setting his bag besides Harry’s who is shaking his head and snorting. As instructed, they change into their robes back to back and Louis doesn’t even peek. It’s an exercise in self restraint not to listen to Harry’s uneven breathing, let alone ignore how hot his skin feels suddenly.

When the masseuse knocks on the door to get them, she introduces herself as Danae. She’ll be massaging the both of them since the booking was short noticed. Her voice is soft and soothing and it suits the zen environment they’re surrounded by. She leads them to the massage room where everything has been set up for a couple. Rose petals and candles are littered on every surfaces in the dim light, the whole shebang seems intimate and langid. In the middle of the room, two tables are set side by side and Danae invites them to undress and lay down. With maximum awkwardness this time, Harry undresses and Louis gets a glimpse of the swell of his arse before Danae covers his middle with a towel as Harry lays on the table.  Louis feels a stirring beneath his towel. Hopefully his dick won’t ruin this for him.

Once it’s Louis’ turn, the proceedings are pretty much the same, except--

“You were right your arse _does_ look better than mine.” Harry chuckles, head rested on his forearms.  

Louis jerks in surprise. So much so in fact, the towel drops to the floor before Danae has time to cover him. And so there he is, naked in all his glory in the middle of the room, dick definitely _not_ behaving. The masseuse at least has the good taste not to voice her puzzlement at the scene (they are supposed to be a couple after all).

Harry keeps laughing quietly but turns his head away so Louis can finally regain some dignity.  

What’s left of it anyway.

Danae starts with Harry. And that gives Louis all the opportunity to catalogue a few things he didn’t know before and that frankly he wished he didn’t know now such as:

With his hair down, glossy and full of soft waves, spread out over his shoulders and the table, Harry looks like some kind of fairy prince.

The way his arms are pinned to his sides, hands clutching the side of the table, makes his biceps bulge giving him the appearance of being quite built--which, okay, maybe he is, but seeing his physique, in all its nakedness is the worst kind of distraction for Louis. Hanging on to the table himself, it's...all he can do to remember his own name, let alone what he's doing here and what this mission is about.

When Danae manages to smooth over a knot on Harry’s shoulder, his muscles spasm and contract and that just stirs Louis’ attention to the broadness of his shoulders.

When she hits a sensitive spot on Harry’s back; Harry moans, soft and low.  Harry’s voice is perfect for moaning. Louis’ cock twitches, trapped between himself and the table. He swallows thickly around a lump that wasn’t there three minutes before.

_Fuck. Fuuuuck. This is really bad._

Louis looks away. He spends the next few minutes trying to wish his semi away, careful not to move a muscle, afraid of bringing any friction on his half hard cock. Without visual stimulation it should work, except that _Harry_ keeps emitting these soft whimpers of pleasure that threaten to drive Louis completely mad.

“Right there. Mmmmh, yes. That’s it.” Harry cooes. “You’re making me feel so good.”

Louis has the sudden urge to set himself on fire and jump out the window. He’s now _fully_ hard. He wants to cry. He has to take action, right the fuck now. He never needed to think about something else more in his entire life. Anything to steer his mind away from the sounds and thoughts immediately. Mostly the _sounds_.

“Hey, Harry, how did you meet Nick?” Louis asks, too high up in his throat but it’ll do, it has to. Thoughts of Nick should bring his boner down instantly, right?

Harry stiffens slightly and turns his head around to face Louis a few seconds later. Louis tries not to fidget, hyper aware of his neglected cock.

“Would you believe me if I told you that when I was twenty, Zayn and me went on tour with ‘Ed & The Salties’ for almost a year?”

“The punk band?”

“Yeah. We went to a concert for my birthday. We met Nick there and he was following the band during their european leg of the tour. He knew them and invited us backstage.” Harry grins, lopsided and perfect.

“You were a groupie?” Louis asks, bewildered that this is where Harry disappeared during the year he’s been unaccounted for. Harry Styles? A groupie? No fucking way.

Harry grimaces. “Not quite. Well yeah. Maybe. I don’t know. Anyway I met Ed there and we hit it off. So the three of us stayed with them.”

“You slept with Ed Sheeran?” Louis is completely dumbfounded. He can’t really be blamed when everyone knows “Ed & the Salties” are like “The Sex Pistols” of their generation. Superstars known for partying hard, trashing hotel rooms and burning the candle at both ends. In a word, the exact opposite of Harry.

“I wish.” Harry chuckles. “Ed is straight. Had a fling with his guitarist Mitch. And his drummer Jana. Not at the same time.” Harry corrects hurriedly, when he sees Louis’ eyebrow raise. “Was fun.” Harry shrugs.

“What about Nick?” Can Louis be blamed for being curious? Can this count for research? Louis doesn’t know but that’s what he’ll argue when Casey badgers him about it without fail.

“Nick is great for boozing and finding good drugs and tattoo parlors in the middle of the night when you really want a butterfly on your stomach.” Harry looks half proud and half self conscious at the admission.

“Harry fucking Styles. Sowing your wild oats. I have to admit I didn’t see that one coming.”

Harry honks out a laugh that reverberates off of every wall of the quiet room.

“How did you go from that to pastry chef? That’s a 180, if I ever saw one.” As soon as the words are out his mouth, Louis knows it’s a mistake. From the way Harry’s face immediately closes off to his hand curling up into fist beside his face. It’s a rookie mistake too. How did Louis let his curiosity get the better of him? How could he be this reckless? He knows better than to press a target for answers, he’s supposed to lure them in, god damnit.

Harry clears his throat and steadies Danae’s hand on his shoulder.

“You can take care of Louis now, love,” Harry instructs, “We’re done.”

“Harry--” Louis sits up, feeling like the mission is slipping through his fingers once again. And maybe something else too, but he’s not willing to dwell on that.

“I have to get ready, I’m meeting the boys.” Harry gets up, adjusts the towel around his hips, avoiding Louis’ insistent eye contact.

“Harry--”

“Please, take your time.” Harry looks up and Louis can finally have a clear view of Harry’s tormented eyes. “Enjoy your massage, you need it. Please.”

The finality of the statement hints that Louis needs to stop pressing. So he nods and watches Harry flee the room in a haste.

Louis only wanted to make his erection go away. How did he go from that to this mess in just a few minutes?

 

**

 

Once he’s back in his room, Louis tells the whole story to the team (sans the boner part of course). He gets scolded for pushing the target too far by Casey and carefully dances around the reasons why he went there in the first place. He has a tendency to forget himself, like something is clawing out of his facade, when Harry is concerned, his defenses are lowered dangerously down. 

He’s supposed to bait the targets into wanting to know more about him, he’s supposed to maintain an aura of mystery around himself to ultimately peak the target’s attention. Not act like an overeager teenager, asking too many questions and pushing too far to satisfy his own curiosity. He’s not even supposed to _care_.

The protocol he needs to follow now is clear as day. He has to take a step back, at least for the night. Let Harry miss him a little. Play hard to get.

Since Niall fixed the AC, Harry is back to his room. As Louis watches Harry brush his hair in the monitor, getting ready for the night besides Zayn who joined him to get pampered, Louis makes the call. He has the perfect excuse not to tag along to ensure Harry’s security: he says his back still hurts. Harry is more than ready to let him off the hook for the night, urging Louis to rest. He also promises not to rat Louis out to Anne.

 

**

 

When Louis hangs up, he doesn’t close the monitor. He watches Harry spread two outfits on the bed for himself to choose from for the evening, a hip cocked out. 

Despite the knowing looks Casey sends him, Louis is just doing research. If he’s smiling, it’s because Harry is humming “You’re The One That I Want.”

Zayn hip checks Harry. “How about you wear something a little more daring tonight, huh?”

“What’s wrong with these outfits?” Harry pouts.

“Jeez, how are you going to choose between a plain black suit and a plain grey suit?” Zayn mocks.

“We’re going to see a classical ballet at the Opera, Zayn.”

“So?” Zayn huffs, then squats down to grab a plastic bag he brought with him into the room that Louis only notices now. Zayn pulls out something sparkly that Louis can’t identify from where he’s watching . “You used to be more audacious.”

“Oh my god.” Harry exclaims, extending his hands towards the item in Zayn’s hand. “You brought my golden boots?” Harry sounds a little teary, he brings his hand to his chin, bracing himself. “I haven’t worn those since--.”

“I know.” Zayn strokes Harry’s forearm soothingly. “I think Gems would want you to wear them again.”

That rings a lot of alarms on Louis’ head. Alarms about puzzle pieces he has yet to solve but seem key to knowing and understanding Harry Styles.

Harry appears to hesitate, holding the boots a little closer to his heart.

“Do you think she would have been a star dancer in the Paris Opera Ballet by now?” Zayn asks. Louis has a feeling it’s more for Harry’s sake than to satisfy his own curiosity.

“Why not? She trained with the English Royal Ballet Company. She could have become anything she wanted.” Harry’s voice is small and unsure. He’s caressing the pad of his finger over the boot’s shiny surface.

How did Louis not know this? Harry’s sister was a dancer? Granted, with the little time they had to prep, they had allocated all resources to researching Liam and Harry as a couple — it had been the priority. Now Louis wishes they had done a more thorough job.  

“I miss her too.” Zayn says softly.

“I know.” Harry’s smile doesn’t reach his eyes. “The world isn’t the same without her.”

“She’d want you to wear the boots if she was on stage tonight, you know?” Zayn insists.

“Okay. I’ll wear the boots.” There’s a tremor in his voice, and Louis can hear every heavy inhale and shaky exhale Harry takes after agreeing. He leans into the one-armed hug Zayn gives him easily.

“We should go for lemon meringue before too.” Zayn suggests.

Harry chuckles, teary, in the crook of Zayn’s neck. “Don’t push it.”

They’re interrupted by Nick barging into the room, like a bull in the proverbial china shop. “What’s up bitcheeeees? Are we ready to partéééé?”

“I told you it was ballet, Nick.” Harry chuckles, but it’s fond. His cheeks are still tainted red from the surge of emotions talking about his sister brought up.

“And my brain chose to ignore that, thank you.” As Nick starfishes in the middle of Harry’s bed, settling in, Harry shrugs, palms up. “There are men in tight pants?”

“Why are we still talking.” It takes less then a second for Nick to get to the door. “Let’s go, love the boots, H.”

Something has made itself quite clear in the last few minutes, which is that Harry’s sister, along with the lemon meringue and a pair of gilded boots, bare quite the significance to Harry. They may even be the key to understanding the man better. Louis didn’t even realise he made the decision to go until he’s half naked, Casey holding out his tuxedo and Niall dangling his shoes in front of him.

He’s going to the ballet. More importantly he has to be _seen_ there.

 

**

 

“Haz. Pssst. H. Look. Louis is here!" 

Nick  is anything but discreet as he tries to stir Harry’s attention to the string of rows below the balcony. The concerto of Shhhhhhs their surrounding ballet goers throw at him can attest to that. When Harry directs his gaze down, leaning over the railing and squinting, he’s surprised to see Louis there, trying to find a seat even though the ballet has already started. He looks good, clad in a black tuxedo, hair pushed back in an artful quiff, and freshly shaved, a lot more kept than what Harry is accustomed to with his bodyguard. Harry’s gaze falls on Louis’ shoes as if on instinct and they have the faintest shimmer in the light, like they’re almost glowing with something like glitter. Harry bites his lower lip. As Louis sits down stiffly, Harry frowns.

“He said his back hurt. What-- I didn’t even tell him where we were going. What is he doing here?” He murmurs under his breath but no one answers and his eyes don’t leave Louis to see if either Zayn or Nick give him so much as a shrug in reply.

The trio is silent for a while, enjoying the show, even though Harry’s eyes keep finding Louis’ profile. He looks like he’s having the time of his life. Nodding and smiling on the verge of applauding every time the star dancer executes a particularly difficult dance move. He looks so much younger like this, and Harry smiles, unwillingly at that. He only realises he’s staring once he catches Zayn giving him a knowing look from the corner of his eye. Harry is about to protest but Nick sufficiently distracts him.

“I’m sleeping with him tonight.” Nick says matter-of-factly, settling deeper in his chair, hands comfortably behind his head, “He’s just so...edible. Mmmmh. Dreamy really. I bet his arse tastes like caramel.”

Harry is nothing short of annoyed. He’s just not sure why exactly and is not about to look into it either. He should be used to this kind of brazen forwardness with Nick. He’s always been like this, crude and rude. It used to make Harry die of laughter. Now it’s just irritating.

“You don’t mind if I fuck his brains out, do you?” Nick adds, a disturbing predatory look on his face.

Harry chokes on air. “What? No! Why would I mind? I-- I’m getting married, remember?”

“To Boris McBoring,” Nick laments, “please don’t remind me!” Harry doesn’t know if he likes the subject change or not but he’s sure not going to let his fiancé be disrespected, even by a friend.

“You haven’t even met him yet! How can you even say that?”

Nick points to Zayn accusingly. At least Zayn has the decency to blush.

“It doesn’t matter anyway. Harry turns back to Nick, stung and petty. “Louis won’t sleep with you. He’s not the sleeping around type.” He feels a little bratty saying it.

“And what makes you so sure of that?” Nick huffs.

“I slept in his room last night and he barely looked at me.” As soon as the words are out of his mouth, Harry regrets uttering them because as if on cue Zayn whisper-shrieks, “You slept in his room?”

“Yeah well, ummm,” Harry begins hastily, uselessly searching his mind to explain the situation at hand and feeling embarrassed, god knows why, since he hasn’t done anything wrong. “My air conditioning was acting up and umm-- well it doesn’t matter, the point is, he won’t sleep with Nick.”

“Is he straight?” Zayn asks then, eyes back on Louis who is now mimicking a concerto master, finger in the air, eyes closed, completely wrapped up in the music. “He doesn’t seem straight.”

“He came to see a ballet willingly,” Harry deadpans, “what do you think?”

“It’s settled then.” Nick beams. “I’m going to fuck him until he cries.”

Harry winces when Nick claps his hands together in delight. Then he sneaks another peak at Louis. He’s kind of mesmerized by the way Louis bites his lip when the lead male dancer executes a particularly impressive grand jeté, wide eyed and amazed. He’s covering his delight with a hand clasped over his mouth every so often, and it makes Harry smile to watch him act like a child visiting Disneyland for the first time. Surely it’s not his first ballet if he’s here alone and in secret, right? All of a sudden Harry envies him, brought back to the first time he got to watch his sister on stage. He was barely seven, but he remembers feeling exactly how Louis looks. Next thing Harry knows he’s startled by the sound of the audience applauding, he didn’t realise the show has ended. How long has he been staring at Louis?

Too long apparently, because he catches Zayn looking intently at him and biting the inside of his cheek before looking away.

 

**

 

Louis leaves the venue before Harry can catch up to him in the great hall. He rushes into the cab Niall’s picking him up with. It might have been the best show he ever had the pleasure to see and he’s seen shows on Broadway. He almost forgot about the mission for a while.

“You’re so good at this, Lou. He couldn’t stop looking at you.” Niall grins, looking back from the front seat.

“Good.” Great even. “He’s almost ready for me,” Louis says, a mix of excitement  and unease threaded through his voice for some reason. “I’ll make a move tonight.”

 

**

 

Back in his hotel room, where Niall and Casey made themselves scarce for the next phase of the plan, Louis is loosening his collar, letting the tie hang loose around his neck, while he watches the feed on the computer. Harry is alone in the room beside his, looking out the bay window, lost in thought. He stands in the darkness, the moonlight rays making his eyelashes cast the prettiest shadows over his face. After a few minutes thumbing at his bottom lip, he goes to the bathroom and checks himself out in front of the mirror, touching his face first then twirling to check his backside.

Louis can feel the trepidation bubbling inside him and making its way up his spine, tickling his neck.

As he sees Harry finally approaching the adjoining door, Louis hurriedly closes the computer and hides it behind a couch cushion.

Show time.

The knock coming from the front door startles Louis. Wasn’t Harry ready to knock on the door separating their two rooms just now? When Louis opens it, Nick is standing there, elbow on the frame, wearing a thin ruby red robe so short it leaves nothing to the imagination.

“My air conditioning broke down,” Nick simpers, batting his eyelashes exaggeratedly, “Can I crash here with you?”

“No. Nononono.”  Nick ignores him and slithers into the room.

“Is it hot in here?” Nick’s robe falls at his feet, leaving him completely naked in the middle of Louis’ room. Louis doesn't get the chance to react before Nick crowds him, mid-protest, kissing his neck, cheeks and face and Louis has the hardest time pushing him off. He’s thrown on the bed unceremoniously, Nick straddling him immediately.

“Fuck’s sakes, Nick! I have a job to do!”

“Do me first.”  And Louis would laugh if he wasn’t so surprised, he would, because Nick’s erection is bobbing comically between them and it’s so absurd Louis wants to cry.

Louis is panicking now, what if Harry hears or comes inside at this precise moment? If he got caught with Nick in this position, the whole plan would be ruined.

He finally, _finally,_ manages to extricate himself, pushing Nick’s grabby hands away enough to get up and lock the adjoining door. He doesn’t dwell on the fact that Harry should’ve knocked by now, he has bigger fish to fry. Namely a lanky quiffed man wearing too much cologne who is hellbent on getting into Louis’ pants, one hand on his zipper, the other palming an arsecheek.

It’s time to change tactics.

“Hold that thought… um… love muffin... I have to, um,  slip into something more comfortable.” Louis says, refraining from gagging into his mouth.

Nick purrs in reply and Louis flees the scene clumsily, to buy himself some time and catch his breath. As he shuts the bathroom door in Nick’s face, he’s already dialing to call for reinforcements.

“Cas, code blue.”

_“Pants on fire?”_

“No I have Harry’s nympho friend here trying to jump my bones, come and rescue me.”

_“You can’t get rid of him?”_ She asks, regretful, clearly not grasping how much of an emergency he’s in. _“Ni and I are having drinks downstairs.”_

Is she for real? Does she think this is a-- vacation?

“Are you fucking kidding me? Get the fuck back here ASAP and get rid of him!”

Nick opens the bathroom door at that precise moment with a roar, pulling Louis to the bed again. When Nick puts one of Louis’ finger in his mouth and moans, Louis wishes he was dead. A second later, Nick’s whole body collapses on top of Louis, crushing him so hard and fast Louis’s breath is taken away.

For a second there, Louis thinks Nick just came on him but then his gaze falls on Niall  — holding a vase at arm’s length, at the foot of the bed —  and then on Nick, who’s unconscious, on top of him. He connects the dots.

“Are you out of your bloody mind, Ni?” Louis screeches, finding his voice again.

“What? You said to get rid of him by all means necessary?”

“I didn’t ask you to assault the guy!” To his credit, Niall looks at least a little remorseful.

Louis manages to transport Nick’s lifeless body out of his room and across the hall with Niall’s help. It will be a goddamn miracle if they don’t get caught. Casey is waiting outside, dressed up to the nines which strikes Louis as odd since she was supposed to be having drinks at the bar with _Niall_. But...it gives Louis an idea.

“Casey, you’re staying with him. You’ll pretend he had one too many and that you slept together.” Call Louis petty, but Nick deserves it.

“No way.” Niall interjects; wide eyed and cross. Louis couldn’t care less that Niall is besides himself with jealousy. The plan is falling apart and they need to get a handle of things right the fuck now.

“Yes way.”

The elevator’s door lets out a hotel guest and the team has to get Nick up straight hurriedly, making it look like Nick is drunk out off his arse. “Come on mate!” Louis slaps Nick’s cheek a few times pretending to wake him up but really fucking praying he doesn’t. The man going to his room pays them no mind but Louis still laughs awkwardly in his direction.

‘He’s gone. Let’s go.” Louis shudders.

When they reach Nick’s room three doors down, Niall shows his annoyance by dropping Nick’s legs on the floor and Louis ends up pulling him up the bed with Casey’s help.

“I’ll do it!” Niall offers, snapping out of it. “I could totally be his type! I mean my arse is all tight and bouncy. He would love it I’m sure. Not that Casey’s arse isn’t beautiful just--”

As he readjusts Nick’s robe to hide his junk (ew), Louis’ brain freezes, as it tends to whenever his best friends body parts are brought up. He calls it self preservation. And it happens a lot more often than you’d think.

“What even are you on about, mate?”

“I mean-- What if he tries something with Casey, you barely managed to fight him off, what if she can’t protect herself?”

“He’s gay Niall. He won’t try. If anything he’ll cry like a baby if he buys the act.”

“Oh he’s gonna buy it.” Casey grins, readjusting her boobs, and running her tongue over her upper teeth. Niall doesn’t look happy about that. There’s tension in his shoulders, and the bob of his adam’s apple shows how he feels about the whole thing. But the matter is settled as far as Louis is concerned.

“I’m the boss, I know you tend to forget but it is what it is.” Louis turns to Casey, already pushing Niall out the door. “You got this?”

“You bet!” She laughs, winking them goodbye.

“You sure she is safe in there with him?” Niall asks, resigned and pitiful and Louis doesn’t have the patience for it anymore.

“Gay, Niall! For fuck’s sake! He is G.A.Y!!”

Louis drags Niall along with him, rushing back in the direction of his room. Seeing the way Niall drops his shoulder in defeat, Louis brings them to a halt in front of the elevator. He pushes cash into Niall’s hand. “Go to the bar, and order the strongest thing they have.” Louis is not a monster, he knows Niall doesn’t need to be told twice.

Back in his room, Louis is a bit sweaty, after all the shenanigans but doesn’t smell bad (he checked). His thin white dress shirt doesn’t show any wet patches either. He threads his fingers through his hair, checks himself in the mirror before standing by the adjoining door leading to Harry’s room. He unlocks it, takes a deep breath, ready to finally move things along and knocks.

He leans a bit against the frame, crossing his arms on his chest, aiming for casual and sexy (he’s done this a few times, okay?),  a warm thrill is thrumming through his veins at the idea that this could be the moment, that they could kiss in just--

Harry’s fiancé opens the door. _Harry’s fiancé opens the door._

Louis starts deflating like a balloon, self conscious and taking in the scene in front of him. Harry is standing a little behind Liam, hugging himself like he’s cold and seemingly bothered by something. Louis can’t dwell on it and has to bring his attention back to Liam when he clears his throat, a raised expectant eyebrow featured on his face.

Harry moves to the bed, biting on the cuticles of his index finger, staring at Louis for a beat before turning his back on him entirely.

There is a long pause, where Liam keeps looking at him while Louis’s gaze is fixated on Harry. Liam shifts so that he stands right in front of Louis, blocking his view,which is just what he needed to break the spell.

“I’m the bodyguard.” Louis states, as an explanation for his late intrusion.

“Ho! Louis, isn’t it?”

“Yes.”

“Thanks for protecting my Harry.” Liam says, a warm smile painting his lips. “It means a lot to me that you were there for him when I couldn’t be.”

There’s something sincere and soft around the edges about Liam Payne and for some reason it makes Louis feel uneasy. He has to resist the urge to wipe that smile right off Liam’s face.

“Sure. Errr, I mean, that’s my job.” Louis scratches at his chin, ignoring the guilt tearing up his insides.

“I know it is.” Liam nods. “It’s mine for tonight though. Goodnight Louis. Thank you for everything.”

Liam closes the door.  The sound of the lock being turned echoes in the silence of Louis’ room.

 

**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Look at the beautiful [pastry chef harry manip](http://www.tvshows-addict.tumblr.com/post/161743398976/melmanpur-harry-styles-son-of-anne-styles) Silvia did for this fic. I've inserted it in a previous chapter but for those who are reading as I post, maybe you've missed it! Give it all the notes please!


	6. Chapter 6

_“Someone who can’t look you in the eyes is either trying to hide a lie or trying to hide a love.”_

_-Anonymous_

 

“You don’t get it, the fiancé showed up during the night and now it’s getting too complicated. I’m going to need an advance, Simon, or else I’m pulling the plug. I’ve got too many expenses.”

It’s the next morning and there’s no sign of the lovebirds. But Louis-- Louis has bigger, much bigger problems.

 _“No. You get the money once you complete the assignment and not a moment sooner.”_ Simon’s voice over the phone rings like a death sentence right now, with good reason, because Louis is suspended fifty meters up in the air over the balcony at arm’s length by no one other than Alberto. The nutcracker traced him all the way to Paris, which is just Louis’ luck.

“Listen,” Louis pleads to the mountain of muscle once Simon hangs up on him, “I’m on a very big case, I promise, give Wootton a call, I’m sure he’ll understand!”

Louis wishes he could say he’s seen worse but looking down at the cars parked below and seeing his whole life flash before his eyes, he really has trouble remembering _when._

Thankfully, after all the blood has completely drained from the lower half of his body, rushing to his head, Alberto finally pulls him up and not so gently plants him on his feet. Louis tries to regain sensation in his legs and steady his erratic heartbeat while Alberto fishes out his phone to presumably call Wootton. He hangs up in less than a second.

“Tomorrow.” Alberto grunts. Louis doesn't dwell on the fact that this is the first time he hears the giant's voice.

 

**

 

Louis straightens his clothes, trying to look the bodyguard’s part despite being manhandled mere minutes ago. He’s in the hotel lobby, searching for his bloody team, which has a tendency to disappear lately, when he spots Liam and Harry rushing towards the exit hand in hand and rolling suitcases in tow. With his white shirt, and tight white trousers, Harry looks angelically good. Louis doesn’t think he has ever seen him this happy since he met him and that makes him pause.

If he hadn’t just been hanging off a balcony, he would probably let the couple escape, but he can’t risk it and them walking away doesn’t bode well.

He runs after them and only catches up once they are about to board a white Mercedes.

“So, where are we going?” Louis asks, a little frantic, blocking the way to the car, then changing tactics when Liam and Harry just go around him. He slips into the car, taking the seat behind the wheel. Liam doesn't say anything, the frown on his face saying it all, he didn't expect Louis to tag along.  
  
“To the airport,” Liam replies, taking a seat in the back beside Harry. Harry adjusts his sunglasses on his nose, squeezing Liam’s hand in what seems like encouragement.

Is it time to panic yet? Louis would like to know. And where the hell are Niall and Casey when he needs them?

“You’re leaving?” The helplessness is audible in Louis’ voice, he’s sure of it.

“To Las Vegas!” Liam beams, holding an arm out to circle Harry’s shoulders possessively. “We’re getting married!” Harry’s smile is a little strained then, or maybe it’s Louis’ imagination playing tricks on him.

“Great. Congratulations.” As Louis makes eye contact with Harry through the rearview mirror, Harry averts his gaze immediately.

“I just can’t refuse Harry anything,” Liam coos, looking at Harry adoringly. Louis is going to be sick. He fishes his phone out of his pocket and shoots the team a text. He needs back up big time.

Soon enough they reach the airport where a private jet is waiting for them (how rich is Liam fucking Payne anyway that he could secure a private jet in two hours? This is plain bragging is what it is). In any case, Louis has to stall them and it proves difficult since Liam is walking quite decisively towards the pilot. Harry, however, starts walking straight towards the plane still avoiding Louis’ gaze at all costs. As Louis unloads the car, he makes a decision as to who he’s going to try and coax first.

“Harry, don’t go please, I’m _begging_ you,” Louis cries, way, way, _way_ too desperate.

“What?” Harry stops dead in his tracks and turns around, displaying the deep furrow between his brows. Harry’s green eyes meet Louis’ blue ones and Harry’s gaze drills a hole directly into Louis’ soul, rendering him starstruck and at a loss for words, thoughts or anything else. Harry Styles has a power and it’s to make Louis’ knees wobble and his tongue turn into jelly.

It’s rather inconvenient.

Louis must be silent for too long because Harry purses his lips and resumes walking. That has the effect of jolting Louis back into gear at least (thank you, knees).

“You can’t get married like this on a whim. I mean-- You need to think about this, talk about it. Harry. Haz. Please.” Louis bargains, panic rising in his gut like wildfire. And Harry? He doesn’t seem to measure what a horrible mistake it all is.

“We’re only one day ahead of schedule, what is there to think about?”

“Well for starters, Las Vegas? Really? It’s so overrated, plus you know, you-- you deserve better than that. I mean--  you know one marriage out of two ends up in divorce so--”

Harry resumes walking before Louis is even finished with his tirade which, granted, is clearly not the best speech he’s ever given but he’s improvising, okay? He’s like a fish out of water here, not quite out of his depth yet but Harry is certainly giving Louis a run for his money right now.

“-- as you can imagine, you’re heading straight for disaster.”

Harry turns around once again and traps Louis’ hand between his. His palms are warm against Louis’ tingly knuckles.

“Thank you for everything. Really.” Harry smiles, gentle and-- regretful? Pensive? Louis doesn’t have a clear read on him. “Goodbye, Louis.” Louis doesn’t want to let go of his hands.

As Harry disappears into the plane, Louis changes tactics, choosing to run behind Liam, who is heading in Harry’s direction.

“Bravo! Congrats! Good call deciding on a little spontaneity! He needs it, if you ask me.” Louis stands between Liam and the plane, trying to hide his panic behind a fake confident grin.

“Thanks Louis, we really gotta go now.” Liam’s puzzlement shows on his face and he circles Louis to reach the staircase.

Last chance. It’s time for plan B. Or Z in this case since he now feels he’s used every trick in his book and none of them seem to work.

Louis grabs Liam’s arm who jolts back in surprise.

“You’re going to cause your parents great pain you know?” Liam gapes and that’s all the permission Louis needs to continue. “I got married two years ago and I didn’t invite them,” Louis lies through his teeth, “They never got over it, a year later they died in a car accident.” Louis looks away, summoning tears that won’t come. Why is Louis’ life so fucking shitty?

“Look, I’m really sorry for your loss,” Liam clasps a comforting hand around Louis’ shoulder, “but I really have to go, okay?”

And with that he’s gone.

Louis watches the plane take off as punishment, pondering everything that went wrong with the mission. His heart sinks at the thought of Harry getting married in an Elvis Chapel. Something impulsive and wild is exactly what Louis would want for him based on the things he’s learned about the man. So why does he feels like his heart is in his throat all of a sudden?

He fishes his phone out of his pocket and calls Niall, feeling the urge to word vomit all his frustration to his useless incompetent poor excuse of a team.

“I sure hope you’re working on plan B arseholes, because we never failed a mission in eight fucking years.” He yells, and yells, yells. The vein on his neck throbs. “Why the hell did you decide to fuck it all up for our most important one! Fuck! This is a disaster! You’re both useless!

 _“Are you done?”_ Niall answers, cool as a cucumber. _“We’re on our way to you. You may have had mic problems on your end, but Casey is working on it and we still could hear you so we’re--”_

Louis stops listening. He stops because just like his luck, the plane starts to turn around.

A few minutes later, Harry walks off the plane hastily, well, he more or less stomps his feet until he reaches Louis and walks right past him,  a little flushed and obviously upset. Liam trails a few feet behind.

“Drive us back, Lou, please.” Harry asks, a pleading quality coloring his voice and his hand on Louis’ forearm, squeezing, squeezing, squeezing. He looks stung and troubled, eyes shining with something like helplessness or maybe Louis is projecting because, honestly, Harry looks exactly like Louis feels right now.

“What’s wrong?” Louis’ voice sounds hoarse. Harry glances sideways at Liam, and just like that, his whole demeanor changes.

Tense and irritated he says, “Drop me off downtown please, I have a fitting to attend.” He gets into the car without another word and Liam is stuck putting the luggage back into the trunk, closed off and upset. Louis slides into the driver's seat as Liam enters the back, closing the car door just this side of forceful.

“I’m sorry babe, but I can’t do that to them, okay?”

Harry doesn’t spare him another glance, choosing to focus on something through the window.

Louis fist bumps internally.

 

**

 

After an awkward, silent ride back, Louis drops Liam off to the hotel, he doesn’t kiss Harry goodbye, just glances back into the car, waiting for something, but Harry is looking the other way giving a very effective, chilling to the bone, silent treatment.

“Sweetheart, I have to see my parents, don’t pout.”

Liam sighs through his nose, when Harry doesn’t acknowledge him at all. Then he goes inside, recognising a lost battle.

“What happened?” Louis asks as soon as Liam is out of sight, curiosity bubbling up, and Harry turns his head at that. Harry levels him with that intense gaze again.

“How about you handle my security, and I’ll take care of my private life?”

And that stings, alright? Louis thought they’d gotten to be something… different, which is totally ridiculous, of course. Harry just brushed him off like he was the hired help. Which, he is, but still. Louis is thinking about what to say next, what move to play when like a thunderstorm, Zayn and Nick pile up into the car, squeezing themselves in the backseat on both sides of Harry. They greet him with a kiss on the cheek at the same time, enticing a small smile on the man’s face, softening his features. It suits him better than the scowl he was sporting since he got off from the plane.

Harry reminds Louis where he wants to be driven, lest he forget he’s here to do a job. He pulls away from the curb, easing into traffic. He subtly checks Harry’s face from time to time as he makes his way downtown.

“Babe, you will not believe what happened to Nick last night.” Zayn giggles good naturedly as Nick hides his face in between his knees.

“Doooon’t. Please” Nick moans.

“He had sex with a woman.”

Harry full on turns to Nick at that, who is clearly completely horrified. “No fucking way. How-- how was it?” Harry can’t really hide his disgust and that makes Louis smirk a little, interested as to how things went with Casey, he’s still not caught up with that whole situation. He has a feeling that plan went well (for once).

“I don’t remember anything! I still can’t believe I managed to get it up! Well-- she seemed to have had a good time at least.

“He freaked out, it was hilarious,” Zayn interjects, “When I found him he was rocking himself in a corner of his room repeating _‘I put my wiener in a vajayjay’_ like some kind of mantra.” Zayn laughs hysterically, dragging a reluctant round of chuckles from Harry, who thankfully, seems to be shaking off the melancholy from whatever transpired between him and Liam earlier.

Louis relishes on vengeance being a dish better served cold. In your face Nick. Here’s Louis’ figurative middle finger. He can’t help laughing under his breath.

“It wouldn’t have happened if _Louis here_ hadn’t refused my advances.”

Harry’s head snaps up as Louis chokes on air. It doesn’t matter, though. Because he’s looking at Harry, and Harry’s looking back. The only thing Louis is sure of is that he really doesn’t want Harry to think Louis is remotely interested in Nick. For the mission of course. Nothing else.

“I’m sorry Nick. You’re just not my type,” Louis finally replies a million years later, gaze still trained on Harry’s beaconing eyes.

“Nonsense, I’m everybody’s type! Even women as it turns out!”

Harry smiles then, even though it doesn’t quite light up his face the way Louis knows his smile can. He looks away, finally breaking the spell and focusing his attention back on his friend. An air of sadness still clings to him and Louis is puzzled by it.  

“Let’s have some fun today, okay?” Harry pleads to his friends alternately. “I could use it.”

As Louis pulls over to the curb in front of the tailor shop, Nick singsongs, “I thought you’d never ask.”

No one brings up the fact that Harry being mournful and bitter the day before his wedding is exactly  normal.

 

**

 

“So what happened, H? Why didn’t you leave for Vegas?” Zayn inquires, lounging on the couch, nursing a glass of champagne when Harry slips into yet another plain grey suit.

Louis had to hide in between the wedding gowns neatly lined up on one of the racks because Harry told him they were going in alone, meaning he wasn’t needed for the “day of fun”. Apparently Harry didn’t _feel_ threatened enough to need Louis’ up close and personal protection anymore.

Dandy.

Do you know how expensive it is to organise a fake carjacking as it is? Very. He wasn’t about to pull another stunt. Casey would have his head and they didn't have enough time--or money-- anyway. In any case, Louis has been phased out because of it.

Needless to say Louis disobeyed Harry’s order.

“Just when the plane took off, his parents called. He said he couldn’t do that to them.” Disappointment has replaced the earlier anger on Harry’s features, making his shoulders slump and his lower lip quirk down. It doesn’t suit him any better.

“What a bore.” Nick comments, rolling his eyes and scrunching his nose in disgust. Harry twirls in front of him to show off his suit. “That’s a no from me. You’re not wearing that. I’m not letting you be less fabulous than me on your wedding day. No fucking way.”

Harry sticks out his tongue, a hip cocked to the side, it’s not cute at all.  “He’s not boring. Don’t say that.”

“He soooo is. Oh my god, he sounds like a vanilla stick and a slipper had a baby. Why are you marrying him? And why the hell are you turning into him?”

Zayn glares Nick’s way. “Hey. Watch it.”

“He’s nice, he’s affectionate, he loves me, he makes me feel appreciated.”

“Get a dog then!” Nick dismisses, taking another sip of his champagne. “You don’t need Liam for that!”

Nick has a point.

“I’m not discussing this with you,” Harry says, a little defeated, a lot subdued. Louis hates it. “Be nice, okay? I’m happy you’re here, I’m happy to see you, please try not to ruin this for me? Please?”

After sighing dramatically for a good twenty seconds, Nick concedes and gets on his feet to engulf Harry in a crushing hug. “Okay then, pretty boy, only for you.” When he breaks the embrace, he taps Harry’s butt on his way back to the couch. “Now go and try on something else for the love of God and all things Freddie Mercury. The old Haz would never have been caught dead in a grey suit, just so you know.”

Zayn snorts. “The old H wouldn’t have worn a suit period.”

Harry finally accepts to abandon his original choice and spends the morning trying on suit after suit under the scrutiny of his friends who are getting drunker and drunker by the hour. They banter good naturedly and the teasing mixed with champagne seems to make Harry loosen up, rendering him giggly and rosy cheeked. They keep exchanging stories about the time they went on tour with Ed & The Salties, which is when Harry got all of his tattoos, Louis learns.

“I’m surprised you didn’t get a matching tat with Liam yet.” Zayn eventually says, tentative.

“He’s asked.” Harry inspects his arse in the mirror over his shoulder. He’s wearing royal blue pants that hug his hips just right with a white dress jacket. “I-- I told him after the wedding we could get one.” Harry’s eyes are firmly cast to the ground. “Maybe.” He adds under his breath for no one in particular.

Zayn squints, pursing his lips like he doesn’t really like what he’s hearing (it can’t be about what he’s seeing because Harry looks positively _hot_ right now).

Harry tries on another suit. He dusts off the jacket, standing in front of the mirror and it gives Louis a clear view of his face. Harry looks like a sad doll, like this. Beautiful and lifeless. The apples of his cheeks are red and so are his lips but his eyes are somehow vacant, unless you count the dampness, betraying the faint fresh tears that threaten to spill and it clashes with the vibrancy of the suit he’s wearing, patterned with red and blue and green. Clad in all these colors, he resembles a chrysalis transforming: not a caterpillar anymore but not yet a butterfly either.

“Hey, are you crying?” Zayn is up on his feet in seconds, hands weighing on Harry’s shoulders, spinning him to face him, concerned eyes searching Harry’s face.

“Tears of joy.” Harry whimpers, a fake smile painted on his lips. Louis hates that smile but he looks more vulnerable than Louis ever saw him before. “I’m so happy you’re here.” Harry adds as he hugs Zayn tight, hanging off him like a lifeline. Then he gestures for Nick to join them and the tall man doesn’t have to be asked twice. “Both of you.”

“I love you Harry,” Nick says, a little teary himself. “We just want you to be happy.”

“ I am. I swear I am.” Harry looks away.

Louis’ heart breaks into a million pieces like the shell of a porcelain doll thrown to the ground.

 

**

 

After that debacle of a morning, it’s time to regroup with the team, who Louis finally got a hold of. They’re back in their hotel suite, Louis pacing in front on the bed where Niall is snacking and Casey is perched on her forearms, inspecting her fingernails.

“Let’s face it, we suck.” Louis ponders, “my regular tactics have led us nowhere guys. The plane thing was just the last nail in the coffin of this mission. We’re usually one step ahead but we’re way over our heads, here.”

“So what are you proposing we do then?” Casey asks, tongue trailing over her teeth, bored and generally not having it.

“From now on we’re working without a safety net,” Louis says, “I gotta say I kinda dig it. I can pull it off.”

“As long as Payne is in the way we’re screwed man.” Niall says around a mouthful of McDonald’s.

“No.” Louis can’t help the frustration that takes over his voice. “Because we completely missed the mark on Harry. That man is a dormant volcano. He lies to everyone, including himself.”

This is the conclusion Louis reached after observing him for nine days total.

“Oh! That’s something you have in common!” Casey snarks, ”Two mythomaniac compulsive liars.” She flashes an artificial smile.

“Okay but I could--” Niall tries.

“I think-- I think he’s been dormant...” Louis ponders, brain working a million miles an hours, trying to fit all the puzzle pieces together and completely dismissing Niall’s attempts to help. “I think there’s fire inside this man,” he thinks aloud. Louis has seen flashes, quick  glimpses of that in Harry over the past few days. “I think-- I have to wake up the volcano.”

The idea alone makes him feel like fireworks are going off under his skin, lighting up his spine and making him eager to see if Harry really is smoldering beneath the surface like he thinks he is.

 

**

 

Around noon, Casey decides she’s going to enjoy some ‘me time’, whatever the hell that means.  This leaves Louis alone with Niall to rehearse the next step of the plan, a brilliant one if he says so himself, which is the Grease choreography he hopes to use soon.

As Louis twirls Niall around -the  boy is as stiff as a breadstick- he wonders how things are going downstairs in the hotel’s restaurant where Harry ended up joining Liam and his parents.

How long will it be before he can see Harry again? It’s important _for the mission_ to know these things, because he’s running out of time. Not anything else. Not at all. Maybe that’s not entirely true though, maybe he’s grown a little attached to the man, but that’s to be expected right? When you try to seduce people as often as he does, you’re bound to feel something sometimes, right? He doesn’t dwell on the fact that it never happened to him before on a mission, or ever, for that matter. This is totally normal.

As he dips Niall, a thought escapes his mind in the form of a question.

“Tell me, the first time you saw Casey, did you--”

“It was love at first sight.” Niall answers without missing a beat, big blue eyes staring back at him. They fumble for a bit, trying to agree on who should lead the dance until they settle on Louis.

“Just like that? What, you just knew?”

And somehow it doesn’t surprise Louis that Niall would feel that way. He’s the most gentle, open and trusting person Louis has ever had the pleasure to meet. And he’s the element that balances out the wit and the sarcasm Casey and Louis bring to their team. Like a lot of things, Niall is highly underrated but he’s fundamental to the team.

Niall smiles, suddenly lighter on his feet, as opposed to the dead weight he was moments before. “It was like seeing the sun for the first time after spending a week in the dark, a revelation, bright and blinding and perfect.” Louis is sceptical to say the least but now Niall is skipping? What? “I knew she was it for me. I made some kind of idiotic frozen grin, I looked positively stupid.” Then Niall flashes Louis the smile in question and Louis can’t refrain from barking out a laugh.

“Noooo! you didn’t! Oh my god, that’s not a smile, you look like a proper dickhead!” In Louis’ defence, Niall really _really_ does.

“I know! I looked like I’d been struck by lightning. No wonder she got stuck on that first impression since.” Niall’s shoulders sag in defeat. “And now I don’t really know how to get out of the friend zone.”

“You know I could help you with that.” Louis offers, tapping his feet to the beat and wondering where this proposition came from when he was against the idea of them getting together mere days ago.

“You would?” Niall’s unable to keep the wariness away from his tone.

“I make people fall in love with me for a living,” Louis says smugly.

“Wh--?” Niall shoots him a puzzled look, features contorting in disgust and disapproval. “Casey is not a job, Lou. This--” Niall huffs frustratedly, stopping their dancing altogether. “You really don’t understand, do you?”

The sincerity in Niall’s eyes startles Louis and makes him uneasy and fidgety all of a sudden. “What? I mean I was just trying to--”

“Louis. It’s not a game, okay? Love? Real _genuine_ love, it’s not a game. So I’m not going to play games with her. And neither should you.”

Let it be known that it’s the first time Niall Horan has ever judged anyone, much less Louis whom he adores more than anyone in the world (except Casey) and that’s something really troubling. Louis is having trouble processing this turn of events when someone clears their throat preventing Louis from defending himself. He’s not entirely sure what he would have said anyway so it’s actually a blessing that Casey is walking in the room. Louis doesn’t know if she overheard the whole exchange but the light blush of her cheeks and her rapid breathing suggests that she did. Niall is oblivious however. He’s back to the stupid smile he was wearing the first time he met her.

Things are changing, that much is clear. Louis just doesn’t know if he’s okay with that or not. A quick glance around tells him his presence is not needed anymore so he decides to join the party downstairs in the hotel’s restaurant. It’s time to check on Harry’s security anyway. He’s not fleeing and it’s not because he misses Harry’s presence and it’s not because of the way Casey looks at Niall right now.

He just has a job to do.

 

**

 

What Louis gathers from the minute he walks into the diner room is that Harry doesn’t seem happy. He looks exquisite, just like he always does. With a pair of oversized sunglasses atop his head and a patterned shirt opened enough to show a glimpse of the butterfly tattoo he is gorgeous, if not a little informal. However, he’s getting married imminently and having lunch with his soon to be in-laws, he should be relaxed but the crease between his brows is prominent and he keeps tapping his index finger on the arm of his chair. Louis wonders if he chose the outfit to spite his future in-laws (who look very stuck up, in Louis’ expert opinion) or for another reason. Louis has paid the waitress -Amelia- to put a wire under the table the next time she fills the glasses but she hasn’t had the chance to do it yet.

Liam is eyeing Harry sideways, doing some jerky movements with his chin and Louis wonders for a moment if he’s having a seizure but soon enough, as Harry re-buttons his shirt with an impatient huff, Louis realises it was Liam’s subtle way to indicate that he thought Harry was being indecent.

_Again._

Louis really wants to punch Liam in the face. Louis wonders why the man entices such strong feelings within him. Louis never had such a knee-jerk reaction with a target’s lover before.

As Amelia winks Louis’ way implying her mission is done, static begins to resonate into his in ears.

 _“Harry, why did you choose this hotel?”_ Liam’s mother asks, nose pursed in disdain. “It’s a little tacky. There are people going around in bikinis. I even saw a thong!”

The Hilton? Tacky? What the hell? What kind of luxury has the Payne family been accustomed to if they consider the five star Hilton tacky? In any case, Harry looks so over his in laws it’s almost funny. He’s resorted to peeling an orange at the table, decidedly ignoring Liam’s pointed looks.

 _“And you cancelled the fireworks?”_ Liam’s dad asks this time. _“I was really looking forward to that and so were the Saudi Princes we invited. Plus I took a peek at the menu and I definitely think we could make some improvements-- the dessert--”_

Harry looks up abruptly then, scowling but Liam is quick to jump to his defence.

_Fucking finally._

“Mother, Father, don’t start.” Liam laughs, nervously. “Harry worked really hard to plan this wedding, practically on his own and I trust his judgment, okay? Please, let’s try and enjoy the meal.”

There’s a pause before Liam’s father says, “Okay then.” His tone is clipped, obviously stung he didn’t get his way. “We booked a table at [ “L’abeille” ](http://www.shangri-la.com/paris/shangrila/dining/restaurants/labeille/) [The Bee] for tonight, will you join us?”

Liam squeezes Harry’s hand over the table. “Thank you, but tonight it’s just the two of us.”

_Great._

 

**

 

Back in the room with Niall and Casey, Louis feels his heart sink as well as his plan, as he watches Harry and Liam through the monitor getting back to their own room.

“I’m so sorry honey, I didn’t want to contradict you in front of your parents but I kind of already agreed to a Bachelor Party with Nick and Zayn tonight. I didn’t know you had plans for us.”

The fact that Louis has zero knowledge of this makes him glare at Casey and Niall, reproachfully. It’s their fucking job to know these things.

“It’s okay love, of course you go and have fun with your friends. You’ve earned it after all you did for the wedding.” Liam stretches out his arms and Harry shuffles over, collapsing into Liam’s embrace. Liam pecks his nose sweetly. “Plus we have the rest of our lives to be together, don’t we?”

“Y-Yeah.” Liam seems oblivious to the hesitancy but Louis isn’t.

“Come here.” Liam pulls Harry closer, nosing around his cheek and planting dry kisses until he reaches Harry’s mouth. It’s fairly chaste, until it’s not. But Louis can’t watch. He can barely  stomach the wet noises Liam is making as they kiss, let alone the helpless whimpers escaping Harry’s mouth. He’s still not over the massage thank you very much.

“I think I’m gonna go grab a bite to eat,” Louis says. He schools his features into something that he hopes looks like nonchalance when he starts closing the laptop, catching a glimpse of Harry’s milky smooth throat.

“Wait!” Casey howls, stopping Louis from shutting the monitor, “I want to know who tops!”     

“We’ve talked about this, Casey,” Louis scolds, because he has to say this one more fucking time and he’s going to burst, “fetishizing gay men is wrong.”

“But--”

They have to stop arguing though because Harry suddenly has extricated himself from Liam’s arms, wiping his mouth subtly with the back of his hand.

“I don’t want to make them wait,” Harry says sheepishly, avoiding eye contact with his fiance.

Louis, Casey and Niall leap to their feet at that, on high alert, sensing the opportunity when Harry begins to retreat to the door. Casey and Niall high five but Louis only has eyes for Harry.

 

**

 

Paris is known for being a hot spot for anything gay and fabulous, whether it's for hotel stays, partying or any kind of play one can imagine...so finding a good spot for a bachelor party was not particularly hard for Nick and Zayn, as Harry informs Louis from the backseat of the car he’s driving. It took a little convincing but Louis was allowed to shadow them for the night after arguing that the three of them alone in a foreign country where they were probably going to get sloshed was too dangerous when Harry’s life was still targeted.

They arrive at the Banana Café, an institution in “Les Halles” neighbourhood that attracts both locals and travellers. They often hold themed soirées and drag shows. Tonight, the go-go boys are out to play and they could teach the best ballet dancers a few moves. It’s a solid choice for any night on the town, Louis should know, he’s had several missions in Paris over the years, some of which found him here, at the popular night spot.

They join Nick and Zayn at the bar, who arrived earlier because they didn’t want to miss happy hour.

“Harry! My little lovebug!” Nick slurs, obviously already drunk, “I may have taken a head start!”

That is an understatement in Louis’ opinion. Nick’s quiff is hanging sadly on one side of his face and he has a little bit of drool at the corner of his mouth as well as a dried spot of _something_ _unidentified_ sticking to the leg of his pants, Louis doesn’t want to know. Zayn looks in better shape, although visibly tipsy, his eyes turning into slits when he smiles and generally too giggly to be sober.

They nurse a few drinks for an hour or two, the four of them talking easily. Harry seems to be having fun, the buttons he had previously done up for Liam’s parents coming undone as the time passes. The bar is rather hot, both in temperature but also because people have started dancing and sweaty bodies are now grinding together to the beat. Nick has gone from ogling the go go dancers to full on grabbing at their butts, which leads him to be asked to leave eventually.

“I think I better get him to bed, he’s too scandalous,” Zayn sighs, already going for his wallet to pay the tab. “You should stay Haz, if you’re having fun, it’s still early, Louis will keep you company.”

Louis is _so_ ready for this, he kind of wants to kiss Zayn for the suggestion.  He straightens up on his stool on instinct. He has been on his A game all evening, casting glances through his eyelashes, exposing the column of his throat, subtly sucking on his straw and it was working, Louis is sure, since he caught Harry stealing glances every now and then.

“No that’s okay, I better turn in early anyway, big day tomorrow.” Harry answers, an almost sad resignation in his voice, already getting up on his feet. Fuck. _FuckFuckFuckFuck._

To add insult to injury, Nick decides he’d rather hang onto Louis rather than Zayn so he’s stuck trying to guide the lanky burpy fucker to the car, like the bodyguard he’s supposed to be.

Once Nick is settled in his hotel room, Zayn follows soon after, leaving Harry with Louis in the hallway, lingering, shuffling awkwardly from one foot to another. He’s obviously not ready to say goodnight, which is exactly where Louis wants him. They stand silently, in front of one another, in the space between their rooms, Louis’ ears still buzzing from the loud music from the bar.

“Listen Harry--” Louis begins, not really knowing what he’s going to say. He’s just  not ready to say goodnight either if he’s being honest. Mission or not. He’s still buzzing with energy, that must be it.

Harry doesn’t let him the time to form a sentence. “Good night, Louis. Thank you for tonight. For taking care of-- us. Nick.” Harry clears his throat and before Louis can even realise what’s going on, Harry has fled to his room, closing the door behind himself, leaving Louis to feel the loss settle in his bones.

Once Louis goes back to his suite, he’s greeted by two very defeated faces. Louis can relate.

“We’re screwed, the wedding is tomorrow,” Casey states, ever the Captain Obvious, like Louis could ever forget how screwed he is. They sulk in silence for a while, staring blankly at the monitor while Harry goes through his bedtime routine and slips into bed, careful not to wake Liam up.

After half an hour of tossing and turning, Harry sits up and sighs, eyes cast on Liam’s sleeping form and that makes Louis lean in closer to the screen, senses on high alert. Then Harry gets up and walks out on the terrace. That’s all the team needs to gear back into business mode.

Casey silently helps Louis unbutton his shirt so it hangs loose on each side of his body and fix his fringe so he looks artfully disheveled like he was unable to sleep himself. Then with a pat on his back she sends Louis to their terrace that’s just beside Harry’s.

“H-Hey.” Harry murmurs upon seeing him, chewing on his bottom lip. His voice is hoarse and used and low and so fucking alluring despite looking rather pitifully hunched over himself on the railing.

“Hi. Can’t sleep?” Louis whispers, careful not to wake Liam or burst the bubble they find themselves in.

Harry sighs heavily. “Got a lot on my mind.” He tries to smile but it doesn’t reach his eyes. “Just nervous, I guess.”

Louis wants to ask if he’s getting cold feet. He doesn’t. It’s his last chance, he doesn’t want to screw it up by steering the conversation to the sleeping fiancé.

“Want to go for a ride?” Louis gambles, hands in his pockets. It takes a few seconds but Harry finally tentatively nods. “Meet you downstairs in a minute. And Harry? Wear your golden boots.” Louis winks.

 

**

 

“You sure you don’t want an earpiece?” Casey asks, helping Louis slip into his jacket. He decided on something more casual than his usual suit; skinny jeans, his favorite t-shirt and battered Vans sneakers, which is an outfit he often wears in his regular life. It’s comfortable.

 

“Nope.” Louis pulls up his jacket sleeves and swipes a hand over his fringe so it falls over his eyes. “Freestyling here.”

“Okay then. Good luck. Don’t fuck it up. I love you.” She sends him away with a squeeze of his shoulder.

 

**

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The Banana Café is a real gay bar in Paris.
> 
> So what do you think so far? How do you this will all turn out?


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Posting schedule? What posting schedule? Surprise! 2 chapters in a day because my betas are fab! I'll be posting the last 2 chapters together next week.

_ “When I saw you, I fell in love and you smiled because you knew.” _

__ \- William Shakespeare _ _

 

 

They meet upfront. Harry smells fresh like he just splashed some cologne on. He followed Louis’ instruction by wearing the boots, and he put on skin tight dark jeans that pronounce his bum and a simple slightly sheer black t-shirt to go with them. The most noticeable thing however is that his hair is loose, framing his face in the most enthralling way. He almost looks like a different person with the ringlets brushing his shoulders. Louis actually has to rub his palms against his jeans not to touch.

“Where are we going?” Harry exhales shakily, curious, wary eyes roaming over Louis’ face.

“Wait a second.” Louis clears his throat, adjusting his jacket to approach the couple in the car which just pulled over the curb upfront.

He opens the red Maserati convertible door with gusto to let the woman out. “Welcome to the Hilton. Please enjoy your stay.” The man places the keys in the middle of Louis’ palm, then walks inside without hesitation. 

With a hand on the small of his back, Louis guides Harry to the passenger’s door, opening it wide for him. As Harry joins Louis in the car, hands tracing over the soft leather of his seat, he starts giggling, a twinkle in his eyes and dimples so pronounced Louis could pour a drink in there without spilling.  _ Hello there. _

“You’re crazy.”

Louis cocks his head to the side, huffing a laugh in return. “Buckle up, we’re going on an adventure.”

The car starts with a roar. Louis is not much of a car’s person but even he can appreciate the feel of powerful machinery as he’s gaining speed. It sends a flutter of adrenalin through him, fast and...furious. He can definitely feel the high. For a moment, Harry has his head tipped back, eyes closed, clearly appreciating the feel of the wind in his hair.

“Lou!” Harry shouts over the sound of the wind. “Where are we going?”

“I don’t know!” Louis answers, just as loud. “But we’re going, baby! Woohoooooo! We’re going!”

Harry doesn’t even bat an eyelash at the term of endearment that escaped Louis’ lips without his consent. He’s mellow and relaxed in the passenger seat and it may be the first time Louis has ever seen him like this. He could get used to it.

 

**

 

Louis decides on a destination soon after. He’s pretty sure Harry is going to like it too. He doesn’t want to spoil the surprise though.

“Okay, put your foot here, and then--” Louis instructs, pulling Harry up the wall that will lead them to the perfect spot. 

“Don’t drop me, okay?”

“Like I would ever drop cargo as precious as you.” Louis tuts. He’s teasing but his voice is dipped in honey. 

“Are we breaking and entering?” 

Harry doesn’t seem to be the most coordinated person but he climbs the brick wall as best as he can, breathing laboured and arm muscle straining under the effort.

“Are you scared, Styles?” Louis smiles from up the wall extending his other hand for Harry to hold on to.

“No. I’m-- no.” Harry takes the offered hand. His palms are warm under Louis’ fingers. Once they’re back on solid ground on the other side of the wall, darkness surrounding them except for a few lights adorning the garden, Louis guides Harry towards a hidden door, a hand on the small of his back. His pinky catches a patch of naked skin there for a second, Harry’s shirt having risen up with the commotion. Louis leaves it there until he has no legitimate reason not to.

“Close your eyes,” Louis whispers, mouth coming closer to Harry’s ear than it has ever been. Harry shivers, delightfully, then does as told, breath labored and staccato, hand gripping at Louis’ forearm like a lifeline until Louis has reached their destination. “Now sit. You can open your eyes.”

“It’s a pool,” Harry states, puzzled and maybe even disappointed. Louis doesn’t really dwell on that, he’s still mourning the loss of Harry’s hand on his arm. Nevertheless, Harry removes his shoes and socks, rolls up his jeans and dips his feet, content.

“Not quite.”

“What is it then?”

“Wait for it.”

Louis reaches the familiar control panel hidden under a fake rock and starts fumbling with the buttons with practiced ease. He was a pool boy in this house a few years back for a mission, he knows it like the back of his hand.

The sharp intake of air Harry takes indicates it has begun even before the music starts properly playing. The body of water is not a pool, it’s a dancing fountain, like the famous one you can see  [ in front of the Bellagio ](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=zhHMUKn5dhQ) in Vegas or her big sister in  [ Dubai ](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=MoxxK-8MeWw) . This fountain is a lot smaller of course, maybe twenty five meters long but it’s still lit in all the colors of the rainbow and shooting streams of water to the rhythm of “ _ The Nutcracker” _ , the famous two-act ballet. It shoots dozens of water jets into the air and light keeps refracting and reflecting around in an artful choreography.

Harry looks completely flabbergasted, light shining over the side of his face, eyes big and stunned, lips slightly parted in shock or delight, Louis can’t be sure-- either way, he likes it.

As quietly as he can, Louis goes to sit beside Harry, removing his shoes and dipping his feet. He sits on his hands and makes rotating motions with his feet, feeling the water between his toes, even though Harry’s are completely still.

“You like it?” Louis finally asks, dying to know the answer.

Harry inhales sharply before turning his body to face Louis fully. He doesn’t answer the question but the goosebumps adorning his arms are tell enough. There’s a question there, between the startelement and the boyish amazement that Louis doesn’t want to answer. 

“Fancy a swim?” Louis asks, and before Harry can protest, Louis starts undressing, surprised when Harry does the same alongside him. Louis tries not to stare, which is some kind of inhuman effort (because  _ Harry  _ is  _ there _ ) and as soon as Harry is down to his boxers, the leg of his jeans barely off, Louis jumps into the pool pulling Harry along with him.

As they break over the surface, laughing like mad men, Louis can feel the bubbles rushing up his skin, a direct echo to the ones forming in his gut. Some people would say it’s the feeling of butterfly wings flapping over the walls of their stomach. Louis has never felt more alive as his eyes catch Harry’s butterfly tattoo on his abdomen. Louis can’t feel his toes anymore.

“You’re fucking bananas!” Harry shrieks, but the beam in his eyes gives him away.

Louis, as a form of reply, sips a mouth full of chlorinated water and spits it all back square in the middle of Harry’s face, who jumps back in surprise.

“You’re going down, Lou!”

Harry starts chasing Louis around, as well as one can really chase anyone around in a pool/dancing fountain. In any case, Louis swims away as fast as he can, between the streams, their combined laughter resonating around them. Louis feels high. Not on Harry or anything.  No Not Harry. Definitely not. Everything is under control. Until Harry catches him.

“Gotcha!” Harry says, breathing laboured, cute little front teeth digging into his bottom lip and eyes searching searching  _ searching _ Louis’ face. His hair is wet, forming little curls at either side of his tiny baby ears. His smile is getting wider by the second, making his eyes crinkle at the corners and the color green tainted with gold and amber. Vibrant. Fiery. Alive. 

Louis can’t stop staring at the water droplets carving a path from Harry’s temple to his prominent red lips. There’s something new on Harry’s face, something carefree and light that makes him look like he’s lit from the inside out.

Louis is suddenly overwhelmed by the  _ want  _ to kiss Harry. Which-- is completely against the rules he set for himself-- the target always has to make the first move-- always. But the want is there, tugging at his insides like animalistic instinct, raw and vivid and unignorable. He’s floored by the intensity Harry is staring at him with. 

Louis couldn’t look away if he tried. 

Some invisible force is pulling him closer to Harry, inexorably, and the water makes his movement slow and languid, which is exactly how things are moving in his brain.  Slow and languid like the way Harry talks, the way he moves… the way Louis is hoping he kisses. 

He could drown in Harry’s eyes just as easily as he could in this pool. Is this what it feels like to be entranced? There should be a map to get out of Harry’s eyes.         

He feels himself move forward against his will, lips parted, and parched like never before. It’s going to happen, he’s going to crash into Harry whether he wants it or not. 

And he wants to.

The sound of the house alarm going off echoing in the garden is the only thing that manages to pull him out of his magical entrapment. It takes a fraction of second but he shakes himself out of Harry’s pull and starts swimming to the edge of the pool. “Come on Curly, we gotta get out of here.”

Harry follows, the two of them grabbing their things and sprinting toward the wall. 

When they reach the car, dripping wet onto the pavement, dried clothes and shoes under their arms, Louis looks over his shoulder. Harry is a mix of wet dog and sexy merman like this, hair flattened to his forehead, abs prominent and tattoos on display. He takes Louis’ breath away. 

The alarm is still blaring and Louis can see lights flashing on in the house behind them.  As Harry jumps into the passenger seat he starts giggling uncontrollably, and Louis can’t help but join him.  “That was…” Harry wheezes.

Louis grins like a madman and puts the car in gear.  “ _ Amazing _ ,” he finishes, as Harry keeps laughing like a child. He feels airy and light like this, almost like he could elevate if he weren’t strapped into his seat.

“I’m hungry.” Harry says after a few more snorts and giggles.

Louis tries to smile wider, he can’t, his cheeks hurt.

“I know just the place.”

 

**

 

They stop on the way to put their clothes back on, minus the damp underwear and the way it happens is less awkward than when they undressed for the massage. It almost feels natural to do it under the cover of the night, the moon as their only witness. Louis even gets a peek at Harry’s soft cock before he traps it inside his tight trousers. It looks huge, even like this. Louis’ mouth waters. He ignores it. He just needs to get laid. It’s biology. That’s all.

It’s past midnight when Louis’ car pulls over the curb in front of “Chez Silvia”. It’s not a Michelin decorated restaurant by any means, but they are known for their delicious dessert tray. 

“Wait--” Harry stops him before the front door with a hand settling on his forearm. “It’s the place I’ve always wanted to go to.”

“I know.” Louis smirks. He takes Harry’s hand to guide him inside. He looks like he needs a gentle nudge to enter the building, opened mouthed and shocked like a kid catching a glimpse of the castle the first time they step foot in Disneyland.

“Salut Silvia! [Hi Silvia!]” Louis greets the owner, in impeccable french.

“Louis. No man, I’m sorry, I was closing.” The middle aged woman with a thick italian accent, chestnut curls and a flower behind her ear seems surprised to see him at first but she recovers quickly. 

Louis met Silvia on a mission. In fact, she was instrumental in helping her star pastry chef Gabi leave her husband. She’s one of the rare clients he had to turn into an accomplice. Having to work with people outside the team only happened a handful of times over the years.

Silvia was a natural. He’d come to rely on her several times over the years when he had been in Paris for a mission, and she never disappointed.

“Come on now, this fine gentleman is starving.” Louis points to Harry who is now stood with one foot on top of the other, adorably nibbling at his bottom lip. His hair is still a little damp and his clothes are definitely molding every curve of his body. 

“Meh. He’s more your type than mine,” Silvia dismisses, catching Louis staring.

“Er--I-- well.” Louis can’t really disagree so he just stutters. Harry lets out a bubbly laugh at that, scratching at the back of his neck.

“Just a little pasta, please. Everything is closed at this hour.” Louis pleads again, batting his eyelashes at her. She always had a soft spot for him.

"Il cuoco è andato a casa. Al massimo posso offrirti un drink [The cook went home. The best I can do is offer you a drink.]” Silvia begins to ramble in Italian like she often does when she’s annoyed. Thankfully, Louis is quick on the draw and knows the best way to soothe her is continuing the conversation in her mother tongue. Learning several languages is one of his occupational hazards.

"Cucino io, okay! Posso persino chiudere io, puoi andare a casa. Per favore? [I’ll cook myself, okay! I’ll even close up, you can even go home! Please?]”

Silvia rolls her eyes and Louis is reminded why Silvia and Casey get along like two peas in a pod.

"Prima dimmi, stai cercando di salvarlo o è un vero appuntamento? [Tell me first, does he need saving or is this one a real date?]” Silvia eyes Harry with interest, lips pursed.

Louis answers with a voice just above a whisper, eyes trained on the floor. "Non lo so più. [I don’t know anymore.]” 

He’s lost. If he’s not careful, he’ll be crossing a line here. He’s crossed so many already.

"Ok, va bene. Hai vinto tu. Non ho mai pensato che avrei visto questo giorno se devo essere sincera. [Okay then. You win. I never thought I’d ever see this day to be honest.]” 

Neither did Louis.

He can’t let her go before she tells him about the very reason they’re here in the first place however.

"C'è ancora meringa al limone in frigo? [Do you still have lemon meringue in the fridge?]” 

"Non lo so. Ma immagino che lo scoprirai ora, no? [I don’t know. But I guess you’ll find out now, won’t you?]”

Silvia waves her goodbye, throwing the towel she had on her shoulder square in the middle of Louis’ chest as she hands him the keys.

Once Harry and Louis are alone again, comfortable silence stretches between them as Louis pours them a glass of wine each from behind the counter. 

“I didn’t know you spoke italian.” Harry says, behind the rim of his glass, perched on a stool. He looks amazed and impressed, and Louis takes great pride in achieving that, making someone look at him like that, as if he didn’t do that with every mission. There’s definitely something special about Harry Styles.

Louis has to look down to hide his smile.

 

**

 

“This is like a dream come true.” The only word to describe the way Harry is staring at the lemon meringue inside the fridge would be  _ “reverent” _ . His hair is almost dry and frizzing a little around his ears and with the way he’s extending and retracting his hand, like he’s unsure if he should touch the confection or not, reminds Louis of Audrey Hepburn in front of Tiffany’s.

Liam may be the heir of a diamond empire, but Louis is convinced the glittery rocks wouldn’t make Harry’s eyes sparkle like they do now.

Harry looks back at Louis over his shoulder and he’s smiling so big, his dimples start denting his cheeks, making them look like pools carved in marble on each sides of his face, immovable and so so so perfect. “I almost don’t want to ruin it.” 

“You have to have a taste,” Louis encourages, “you’ve been waiting for years for this dream to come true, haven’t you?”

Harry purses his lips, obviously pondering. Then he shrugs as a way of explanation, grabbing his phone from his back pocket. He takes a deep breath and then proceeds to take a picture of the little lemon meringue that’s he’s taken into his hand. He fumbles a little and Louis realises it is to make sure it’s done with his golden boots in the frame. Once he’s satisfied, he shows it to Louis, small smile ghosting over his lips. If Louis had to describe it, he’d say that smile looks like the lemon tastes: bittersweet yet tender like marshmallow. “Now we can eat it.”

 

 

They put the dessert between them over a table set for two in the dining room, Harry fetching two spoons. Louis, forever the gentleman, gestures for Harry to do the honours. Harry dives in -tongue first- and as soon as the meringue makes contact with Harry’s mouth, he moans, closing his eyes in the process like he’s experiencing something almost religious.

“Oh my god.”

“That good?”

Harry shushes him. “I’m having a professional orgasm here.”

“I’m pretty sure you just called yourself a hooker or a porn star but okay.” Louis’ voice is teasing but it’s warm and sweet. There’s a little bit of white meringue hanging off the corner of Harry’s mouth and Louis has to refrain to thumb at it. He also has to shake himself off of the visual of porn star Harry with white substances around his mouth, but that’s beside the point. He fidgets on his seat, trying to make the twitch of his cock less obvious and covering it all up with a nervous laugh.

Harry then proceeds to reply with a mouth half full, ignoring Louis’ teasing. “I never tasted something this delicious in my entire life, Louis. You don’t understand. I’m already plotting the way I’m going to steal their chef and move them back to London with me.” He pushes the plate closer to Louis. “Go ahead, have a bite.”

Louis complies.

“Mhhhh.” Yes, okay, it’s heavenly. Louis’ tastebuds have never been in contact with something as delicious before and he doesn’t even have much of a sweet tooth. “Dear mother of God.”

“Right?” Harry says around another bite, relaxing his elbows over the table, shoulders loose and low. “Thank you for bringing me here,” Harry says seriously, lower lip quivering just a tad, “I never thought I’d want to. It’s-- It’s something I had planned with my sister Gemma. Lemon meringue was her favorite.” Harry shakes himself off of it. “So thank you, Louis. It’s-- thank you.”

Louis nods, careful not to interrupt Harry if he wishes to confide in him. And maybe it’s the wine that makes Harry’s tongue loosen or maybe it’s the setting. Maybe it’s the memories, suddenly becoming too much and demanding to be let out, but Harry does.

“Gemma is a pretty name.” Louis smiles encouragingly, trying to make eye contact with Harry. It’s a calculated risk to ask about her, but Louis wants to know, and Harry seems ready to share.

“Gemma, she-- she was a force of nature. Since she was three years old she wanted to become a ballerina. And the dream never went away like children’s dreams tend to.” Harry keeps rubbing his hand on his jeans nervously, but he doesn’t stop talking, so Louis lets him, refraining from holding Harry’s hand in comfort-- even though every bone in his body is screaming to do so. “She put everything she had into it until she was noticed and recruited to train in the English Royal Ballet.”

“Wow.” Louis exclaims, beginning to connect the dots. The restaurant, the lemon meringue, the ballet, it all comes back to her.

Harry smiles, obviously proud. “It was an honour and it was well deserved. I often envied her focus and determination. She was almost perfect and it clashed with how imperfect I felt most of the time.”

“Harry--” Louis feels a wave of sadness wash over him. He doesn’t know what he’s going to say, but he knows it’s meant to be reassuring. Harry doesn’t let him.

“Don’t worry, she’d laugh at me when I pointed it out, ruffling my hair and comforting me, like it was the stupidest thing ever. _ ‘You don’t need to be anything else than who you are Haz’,   _ she used to say,” Harry smiles at the memory, “and I kept thinking that she was going to become Prima Ballerina in Rome’s Opera Theatre one day when I’d be a lawyer or some other dull shit. I hated it.”

“Maybe you just put too much pressure on yourself.”

“That’s what she used to say,” Harry huffs, settling back comfortably in his chair with his hands behind his neck, the movement letting a strip of skin appear, just above his waist, “but I couldn’t take her seriously when she did three hours of pirouettes in the garage on her day off now, could I?”

“You two were close then, even after she moved away? That’s nice.”

“We went home every Sunday no matter what. I’d bake for my family.  It was a tradition no one missed. I just loved it, you know? Experimenting in the kitchen with textures, flavors; be it a simple cupcake or an elaborate three layered cake. But Gemma only wanted lemon meringue pie. So I put great effort into making it perfect for her and we’d eat it with three spoons with my mum, even if Gemma wasn’t supposed to eat processed sugar.”

“That would explain the pirouettes on the day off.” Louis chuckles, fond. Harry paints such a picture, Louis can almost feel it. 

“Yeah.” Harry nods in agreement. “Because of her strict diet, she enjoyed it more than words could say. She called it her guilty pleasure. Her walk on the wild side.”

A crooked smile starts spreading on his face. 

_ Bubbles, butterflies, go away. _

“All my sister’s dream came true at twenty-three and I was already old at twenty.” Harry’s smile turns sad and he shrugs, defeated.

“I have a lot of trouble believing that.”

“I-- dunno. I’m a little boring to be honest.” This is the most ridiculous thing Louis has ever heard in his entire life and he’s determined to not let it slide.

“You’re not! What? What the hell Harry!”

“It’s true though. I went to school and came home on Sundays because I’d rather bake and spend time with my sister than get sloshed with my friends.”

“Yeah okay, it’s a little boring.” It’s meant to be mocking but it ends up sounding fonder than anything else.

“See? She thought so too.” Harry purses his mouth to the side, half cheeky, half repressing a smile. “She was always nagging me about letting loose a little. But the thing is, the only thing a little daring I allowed myself was--” Harry sighs through his nose. He leans down under the table and surfaces with his golden boots in his hands. “--these.”

“I don’t understand.”

“We were lounging on my bed head to feet and one Sunday she was relentless, mouth full of lemon meringue, and she wanted to know what my ‘something wild’ was, what would make me happy and maybe a little reckless-- out of character.”

“The boots?” Louis asks, trailing a trembling finger over the glittery material.

“I always wanted them. I couldn’t afford them and even if I could I wouldn’t have dared. She-- She bought them for me.”

“Tell me more. Tell me more.” Louis quotes Grease in a sing-songy voice and Harry just starts laughing, cheeks getting rosy from the wine or Louis. Louis hopes it’s the latter.

Harry tilts his empty glass toward the bottle and Louis refills it, happy for the reprieve, the moment was beginning to feel kind of heavy. The wine goes splendidly with the pastry, he was a sommelier for a mission and learned a trick or two. He raises his glass. 

“What should we toast to?” Harry asks.

“To your wedding.” Louis’ heart clenches, even uttering the words. They’re said hoarsely too, like they have trouble leaving his throat because of the lump that made itself feel like home for the past few days.

“Let’s toast to something else.” Harry looks away, placing his glass back on the table.

Louis thinks of the bittersweetness of the situation -- much like the lemon meringue -- the way Gemma was taken before her time, that she allowed herself only little bits of transgression with the dessert. It feels exactly like that with Harry, and it hits Louis all of a sudden that he almost forgot himself tonight, that he forgot what  _ this _ was. That this is not real. This is not a date. This is a job. It’s just a mirage, an illusion. Harry is just a silhouette, close but out of reach for him. The problem is, if he closes his eyes he almost forgets about the scam. And that’s not supposed to happen. Even if he wants it to.

_ “ _ [ _ W _ ](http://www.goodreads.com/quotes/1138678-we-hunger-in-earnest-for-that-which-we-cannot-consume) _ e hunger in earnest for that which we cannot consume,”  _ Louis quotes.

Harry eyes him for a second, his eyes searching Louis’, before raising his glass almost challengingly. They toast, not breaking eye contact. 

“What’s the craziest thing you did for love?” Harry asks, out of the blue, mere seconds later but Louis doesn’t question it. In fact he surprises himself when he starts spilling the truth. He feels like he kind of owes it to Harry after his confession. He doesn’t dwell on the fact that the target always ends up confiding in him but he never returns the favour with the truth ever.

“When I was in uni, I was cast as Danny in the school production of Grease.”

Harry nods, appreciatively.

“I had a thing for the Director, he was eight years older than me, I was different back then, softer.”

“You’re still soft.” As Harry says it, voice low and raspy, looking Louis straight in the eye, Louis’ breath catches. 

“I didn’t want to do anything about it before I got cast. I didn’t want to be  _ that  _ guy, you know? But once I got the part, we started to spend a lot of time together, rehearsing, having one on one sessions, learning the moves, and he was...intoxicating. I wasn’t like very sure of myself back then so I didn’t really realise he was flirting back until he was lifting me up against the prop Greased Lightning.”

“Hot.” Harry gives his lower lip a gentle bite, smiling crookedly.

“Yeah, it was. He was wonderful, we were together until the premiere. I was completely gone for him,” Louis admits, eyes cast on his glass.

“What happened?”

“We smashed it, I was on fire, after the fourth round of applause I was high on adrenaline so I took the microphone and I went and thanked the love of my life for directing me and that I was so proud to have been his muse.”

“Oh my god, so romantic.”

“His pregnant wife didn’t think so,” Louis deadpans. 

“Oh.” Harry flinches.

“Of course I didn’t know.” 

It doesn’t hurt as much as it used to, thinking about it. It was a long time ago, and the wound managed to heal even if telling it for the first time ever feels like pulling at the stitches. “It was so humiliating. I heard her shriek and the crowd stopped clapping and I just stood there, frozen. She made a scene and came up on stage and started banging her fists on my chest. It was heartbreaking.”

Andrew wanted to leave his wife for Louis. But how could Louis do that? To her? To anyone?  How could he be expected to build something with him when everything they shared was based on a lie? How could he ever trust him? How could he respect someone who would cheat on and leave their pregnant wife? 

It was impossible. 

So he broke up with Andrew. And Andrew went back crawling to his wife. Louis apologised to her, told her everything, that she deserved better. She got back with him anyway. He doesn’t know if she went back to him because she loved him or because she felt she had to because of the baby. In any case, Louis never forgave himself for the affair, for not being able to convince her, for any of it. Louis has always thought of that woman as a cautionary tale. She served as the cornerstone of his business.  She’s really the reason why he started  it -- he didn’t want anyone else to be trapped in a loveless marriage where one partner isn’t there fully and the other lies to themselves. He doesn’t say any of this to Harry.

“I stopped acting after that.”

Somewhere in the middle of Louis’ speech, Harry started rubbing soothing circles with his thumb on Louis’ wrist. They leave heat behind them like little fiery ribbons onto Louis skin.

“I”m sorry.”

“Don’t be. It’s not your fault.” Louis clears his throat, uneasy at all this attention on him, the  _ real  _ him, since he’s not hiding behind the wall of his regular lies. He steers the situation away by taking the last bite of dessert.

“I bet yours tastes better.” Louis winks soft and sincere. Harry bats his eyelashes exaggeratedly at him.

“Do you say that to all the boys?”

The need to laugh at Harry’s cheekiness overwhelms Louis and so he does, throwing his napkin in Harry’s face.

“Only the cute pastry chefs.”

“Lucky me.” 

“Come on Styles, show me what you’ve got. Let’s make a good lemon meringue, this stuff is cheap.”

Harry snorts but follows suit towards the kitchen. “Alright.” 

Harry then goes into “pastry chef mode” so fast it nearly gives Louis whiplash. Putting on an apron, he ties up his hair in a neat bun then starts fishing out the ingredients and supplies he needs, brows knitted together in concentration and boss shoulders squared into a taught line. 

“This is my secret ingredient.” Harry gestures to something Louis couldn’t even identify if he tried. “Don’t tell anyone, okay?”

There’s nothing hotter than that, feeling like he’s in a secret with Harry, except maybe the way he sucks on his thumb because he got burned, lighting the fire on the cooker, and he didn’t even wince. 

“Watch carefully, I’m going to quiz you after.”

“Oh you are, are you?” Louis hops on the counter top, making himself comfortable, feet dangling and enjoying the view.

As Harry starts to whisk sugar, flour, cornstarch, water, lemon juice and a hint of salt into a bowl, Louis can’t help but be impressed with how fast and precise Harry's movements are.  

“I always wondered how people did that.” Louis gestures in Harry’s general direction. “I don’t know how to do that.” 

“What? Whisk?” Harry looks up.

“Yes.”

“It’s not particularly hard, want to try?”

With uncertainty, Louis jumps down from the countertop and joins Harry who stands back to let him take the bowl and the whisk with unsteady hands. Louis never thought of his hands as particularly small but the way Harry’s big calloused one engulfs Louis’ smaller frail-looking one makes him change his mind. Harry stands behind him, right hand finding a spot on Louis’ other one, around the bowl. Louis let Harry lead their joined hands and he relishes the feeling of giving him the reins for a moment. 

His breath stutters at the thought of the things those talented hands could be capable of. He leans back into Harry’s torso without meaning to. 

Once the whisking is done, Harry sends him back over the counter with a condescending handflip.

“Go sit over there and look pretty.”

Louis snorts, stomach flipping over Harry calling him pretty. “Bossy.”

Once he’s perched on his spot once more, Louis watches the thing coming to shape. He remembers idly that this is not why he brought Harry here in the first place. He wanted loose, cool Harry, not this machine, which, granted is hot as fuck but still.

“I bet you never baked a lopsided cake in your entire life.”

“I have!”

“Prove it. This is all so-- neat. Bleh. Tedious.”

Harry stops all movements altogether over the table, where he was applying the meringue on the custard, his tongue is trapped between his teeth in hesitation. “Baking is precision,” he settles on, “or else the finished product is...inferior.”

“Nah. What’s the worse that could happen if you just mess it up a little?” Louis gestures jerkily, reaching for the cake but Harry is quicker to make a barrier with his body.  They struggle for a moment.

“Don’t touch-- the--” Harry grits, hands gripping Louis’ wrists.

Louis stops, breathless. “I like it when things are messy,” he says, grinning and panting at the same time.

Harry eyes him for a beat, his bunny teeth sinking into his lower lip. Then, he turns around to face the meringue. One big intake of breath and he messes it up, making it lopsided and unshapely. He turns to gauge Louis’ reaction sheepishly, and Louis squeezes Harry’s waist, soothing and rewarding. “It looks beautiful. Perfect, even, if you ask me.” 

Harry cheeks turn the most delicious shade of pink, smiling to himself. “I like it. It would never end up in ‘So good.. magazine’ but I love it anyway.”

“Bet it tastes delicious too.” Louis’ gaze never leaves Harry’s face as he dips his index finger in the white squishy meringue and takes it to his lips. Harry watches Louis’ mouth, eyes expectant with a nervous edge to his features. Louis is not even playing up his delight in the slightest, the pastry  _ is _ delicious so it’s only natural for him to moan his appreciation, mouth full and sweet. “Amazing.” Louis states, just before licking his finger clean and one thing is clear in that moment, Harry’s eyes following his every move like a hawk: he’s not indifferent towards Louis.

 

**

 

Moonlight washes the room white and their only other source of light is the few candles Harry lit after they had to explain to two inebriated customers lured in by the lights that the restaurant was closed for the night. After tasting Harry’s dessert, Louis opened another bottle of wine, and they’re lounging in the little salon near the entrance, where customers can usually enjoy a drink while they wait for their table. Louis is sat comfortably on the the couch while Harry is lying on the ground, head settled back on the front of the sofa, shoulder grazing Louis’ knee every time he takes a sip.

“What’s your favorite Grease song, Louis?” Harry asks, unprompted after a few minutes of silence.

Louis could lie. He could say “Summer Nights” or “You’re The One That I Want” like most people, but in the end he decides that he spent most of the night telling the truth and he finds he likes it. Is it funny or ironic that his favorite song from Grease is about being true to yourself, when all he ever does is lie? He hopes it will awaken something in Harry. It may even be waking something in himself.

“There Are Worse Things I Could Do.”

Harry seems surprised, looking back at him with big curious eyes. “I love that song,” he says quietly. 

“I always wanted to be bold and unapologetic like Rizzo.” Most days, Louis thinks he achieved that. Days like today, when he thinks about what happened with Andrew, he’s not so sure.

“That’s not what that song is about.”

Louis is certainly not going to be schooled on Grease, he knows this movie like the back of his hand, thanks. “What is it about then, smartypants?”

“Rizzo hides behind her bravado and her sharp tongue,” Harry explains, looking at Louis right in the eye, “ but ultimately, she’s just afraid of being vulnerable.”

“Maybe.” Louis feels-- he doesn’t know what he feels. Unsettled, caught out? Bare? He doesn’t know but he doesn’t intend to find out, He averts Harry’s gaze and pushes his shoulders back against the sofa. “How about you? Which one is your favorite?”

“Look At Me, I’m Sandra Dee.” Harry tilts his chin up in some kind of ‘what do you have to say about that’ gesture. 

Louis eyes him suspiciously. He wasn't born yesterday.  “The one Rizzo sings or the encore by  [ Sandy ](https://play.google.com/music/preview/Tzxzxseisvu6bur5dfzvt2w5leq?lyrics=1&utm_source=google&utm_medium=search&utm_campaign=lyrics&pcampaignid=kp-lyrics) ?”

“The Rizzo one.” Harry stutters and it gives him away.

“Liar!”

Harry smiles then, caught but looking happy he was. It doesn’t make any sense to Louis.

“If you’re going to lie about it, at least let’s make it fun.” Louis proposes, daring, sliding down from the couch to join Harry on the floor. He nudges Harry with his shoulder. “Let’s play two truths and a lie. I used to do that a lot in uni with my two best friends, are you game?” 

It was a way of practicing their poker faces and learning about body language before launching the business. Casey, Niall and Louis had a lot of fun back then and Louis is having a lot of fun right now too. They play and laugh until it’s way past anyone’s bed time. Especially for someone who’s getting married in just a few hours. Louis learns a lot about Harry’s interests and Louis offers just as much in return. The fact that thirty three percent of what he hears is false is not even bothering him a little. Louis however sticks to the truth, unless it’s work related and Louis puts that in his thirty three percent quota. 

Telling the truth is freeing in a way he could’ve never imagined, talking about his sisters, the way he worships his mom, what he wanted to be when he grew up, all of these are true. They talk about their favorite movies, their favorites places in the world, favorite food, until the bottle is almost empty. Until Harry is relaxed enough to put his head on Louis’ shoulder. Until he feels safe enough to confide in Louis again.

“When my sister died I wasn’t there-- I was on tour with the band, Nick and Zayn. She wanted me to go. She said I needed the reprieve.” He exhales a shaky breath. “I wasn’t there when she got sick and I wasn’t there for her funeral. She hid it from me with the help of my mum. I have never forgiven them or myself.” Harry’s eyes follow the movement of his own index finger circling the rim of his glass of wine. His eyelashes cast shadow on his cheeks and his lips are a tight sad line. 

The minute Harry did something really daring in his life, he lost the most important person in his life. No wonder he turned out the way he is. 

“What happened to her?”

“Cancer. She was gone in six months. She lied the whole time too.”

Louis’ lips part in shock, uneasiness settles in his bones, heart feeling suddenly cold and numb.

“I just wanted to live a little before taking the big uni leap.” Silence stretches between them and the only thing that Louis can’t shake out of his mind is--

“That was three truths there.” 

Harry’s confirmation isn’t necessary.

 

**

 

Meanwhile back in the team’s hotel suite, where Louis left Niall and Casey alone to fend for themselves and keep an eye on Liam, things are rather gloomy. After watching a movie on the bed, Casey starts putting the files away and tidying the room since the mission is almost over. They’ll probably be heading back home tomorrow. Niall watches her, from the edge of the bed, like he’s trying to take up the least amount of space possible, feeling particularly useless and casting sporadic sideways glances towards Liam’s sleeping form steadily breathing on the monitor.

Niall breaks the silence. “I don’t think I’ll ever be able to do real field work, Casey. I’m a shitty actor. Always have been.” 

“What?” She turns around, almost giving herself whiplash, the sheet she was holding dropping to her feet in surprise.

“I don’t bring anything to this team. Louis does all the heavy lifting, You handle the tech and you’re so good at deceiving people, like. You have a real talent.”

“Um thanks? I guess--”

Niall doesn’t realise he might have hurt her feelings, too busy sulking to even pay attention to the love of his life and that says it all right there.

“What do I bring? Nothing. I’m just dead weight. And I’m sick of it.”

“Hey. Hey. What are you talking about, Ni?” She approaches the bed, squatting in front of Niall so she can look up directly into his eyes. Niall’s cheek is warm under her hand. “Who handles all the logistics here?” She says softly, “ who makes sure everything is set for every stunt?”

Niall falls back on the bed with a loud sigh and a pout to match. He may be out of Casey’s grip, but she follows him immediately, straddling his lap. His head snaps up in surprise. “Who made sure the entire Piazza San Marco was empty in Venice? Who made the Monster Truck stunt happen? You. Okay?” She leans down so she’s talking directly into his ear, it’s nothing more than a murmur and it spreads goosebumps all over his arms. “We need you here.  _ I  _ need you here.”

Niall puts his hands on her thighs tentatively, fingertips pushing her back a little just to have a good look at her. His pulse is skyrocketing.

Looking everywhere but at him, fiddling at a loose strand of her top nervously, she’s the portrait of unease. Niall takes a hold of both her arms so she has no choice but to lean back down on top of him, close and warm and trembling. He puts a gentle hand on the back of her neck, guiding her mouth to his, something he’d never thought would happen.

Casey’s breath catches in her throat for a split second just as she sees his adam's apple bob. Only then does she go willingly, crashing into him with everything she has to give. For a moment, all Niall feels is static, nothing computes in his brain but the slick drag of Casey’s tongue into his mouth, sweet and delicious. He’s the first one to break the kiss, wanting to look at her again to make sure it’s not a dream. All he sees in her tender glistening eyes is hope. 

He doesn’t wait for her signal to kiss her again.

 

**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [my tumblr](http://www.tvshows-addict.tumblr.com)/[My Twitter](https://www.twitter.com/Tvshows_Addy), I like to chat.
> 
> [Silvia](http://www.melmanpur.tumblr.com) made that wonderful manip, go and send her some love.


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you've been reading this as a wip, I would like to make something clear about Anne, that I have fixed in earlier chapters for the newcomers: Anne has an illegal side business and her furniture shop is used as a cover for it, that explains in part why Harry isn't too fond of his mum. Ok? Ok. Let's move on to much more interesting things!

_"Here’s to staring into the sun when you used to close your eyes.”_

_\- The Maine, Untangle Me_

 

It’s three in the morning. Maybe later. Louis doesn’t care. He’s not tired at all. In fact he’s never felt more awake. His eyelids refuse to settle, the fire in his gut is a constant. They’ve been silent for a long time, Harry is on the verge of snoozing on his shoulder, at the foot of the couch and Louis knows it’s just a matter of time before Harry asks to be driven back to the hotel. But Louis doesn’t want the night to end.

“Harry, do you want to dance? I want to dance with you.”

Harry looks up, cheek nuzzling into Louis’ shoulder for a second before he kneels in front of Louis holding out his delicate hand.

“I’d love to.”

As Louis’s links up the playlist on his phone to the restaurant’s sound system, Harry begins to laugh, recognising the first notes of “Greased Lightning”.

“I thought we were going to slow dance!”

“And where’s the fun in that?” Louis asks, already jumping on one of the tables and mouthing the famous intro suggestively. Harry giggles when Louis wiggles his hips, over the top and all in all not very sexy in any way. Once Louis reaches the bridge of the song he extends his hands inviting Harry to join him, which he does, without any hesitancy. They sing at the top of their lungs, happy and off key and they don’t care at all. They shuffle and twirl and everything is exactly how it’s supposed to be until Harry tries one of Kenicky’s dance moves.

“Ow, ow, ow,” Harry complains, trailing a hand on his lower back.

“Oh shit! I’m so sorry, Harry! Are you okay?”

“Clearly dancing doesn’t run in the family.” Harry winces but he also chuckles which is reassuring at least.

“Shut up, you looked great up there.” Helping Harry down from the table with an arm around his waist. Louis’ fingers slide over Harry’s slippery lower back, damp with sweat where his shirt meets his  jeans. “Have a seat, where does it hurt?” Louis delicately pulls Harry’s shirt up. Like this, he has a open view of Harry’s lower back, smooth skin and soft little love handles poking out.

Louis smooths his palms over the fine skin there, following the trail of Harry’s spine.

“Here?”

“Yeah,” Harry croaks out.

There’s a moment where Louis hesitates. He’s walking a fine line here and he knows it. The thing is, he’s not oblivious to the spike of electricity the contact jolts in him. He was this close to kissing Harry mere hours ago, he’s actively forcing himself not to lick Harry’s back right now, for crying out loud. That wouldn’t be creepy _at all_. Ultimately Harry’s little whimpers of pain make the decision for him, and he begins to massage Harry’s lower back, sure steady hands working the fine muscles there.

Louis has no time to adjust however because as soon as Louis puts his hands on Harry, Harry starts to let out these little obscene whimpery sounds again, like he did in the massage room, the day before. Louis wants to cry, reminded of his awkward boner. So he has to fill the silence with something else, anything really. To forget. Harry beats him to it.

“When the tour ended, I came back to begin law school and my world was upside down.” He’s back to sharing again. It’s like Louis helped him open up pandora’s box and now that it’s opened, he can’t stop until he’s spilled all of his darkest secrets. Louis doesn’t want him to stop. He wants to cleanse him from everything that’s bad in this world. He wants him to spill his guts and finally be free.

“I started baking every day-- to remember, to-- I don’t know.” Harry sniffs, either from pain or something else, eyes firmly trained to the ground. “There was no way I was going to go to law school in this Gemmaless parallel universe that made no sense to me. So I went to culinary school. And I set my mind to be the best. Like she would have. Focused. Determined. The best.”

Louis’ hands are still on Harry’s back. He refrains from shaking his head no. Harry has it all wrong. The way Harry honoured his sister’s memory by trying to follow in her footsteps, led him to do the very thing she wouldn’t have wanted for him, from what Louis gathered. Worse, Harry is miserable for it. This might be the saddest thing ever. Louis can’t stay silent anymore but he treads lightly, careful not to overstep.

“Harry, have you ever thought that maybe she would want something else for you?”

Harry sighs, shaky and unsure, eyes still directed at his boots. “I don’t know, Louis. I’m beginning to think--” He shakes his head, stopping himself. “I don’t know.”

Louis can relate. His mind is a battlefield of thoughts, daring hopes, and conflicted feelings.

Harry steadies Louis’ hands on his sides, stopping him from finishing the massage — it’s way too soon for Louis’ liking.

“Thank you,” Harry whispers, turning around and pulling down his shirt, giving Louis a small private smile that melts his heart. “I needed it.”

Louis doesn’t know if Harry is talking about the massage or the confession.

The car ride back is quiet and mellow, Harry’s head finding its way back on Louis’ shoulder, lolling gently with every turn.

Upon arriving, as the first flutter of sunrise begins to peak at the edge of the horizon, casting a new fleeting light onto the night, Louis buries his nose into Harry’s hair, keeping him close and breathing him in. Selfishly, he thinks he needs to take his fill right now. He doesn’t realise he’s stroking Harry’s cheek until he feels the familiar tingle of electricity in the pads of his fingertips, glad Harry is asleep and not a witness to his weakness. It’s only when Harry’s eyelashes start to flutter that Louis acts like he was about to wake Harry up. It may have lasted five minutes, or two hours, Louis lost track of time.

“Hey, Harry. We’re here.”

Harry wakes up slowly, blinking rapidly as if he’s in a haze, trying to remember where he is, then he sits up, not even fussed he was slumped on Louis, like it’s the most natural thing to rest there. Then he angles himself to face Louis. “I couldn’t have dreamed of a better bachelor party.” His smile is tender. “I feel good when I’m with you,” he adds, like a secret.

Louis grins, unable to resist, knowing that his expression probably shows exactly how in awe he is of the man in front of him. Louis feels like he’s got a fire for a heart, hot and molten in his chest, melting him from the inside out.

“Why are you looking at me like that? You’re making a funny face.” Harry chuckles, a teasing twinkle in his eyes,  “Please don’t take it the wrong way, but you look like a--”

“-- a proper dickhead,” Louis finishes, knowing exactly how he looks. He’s fairly certain he’s wearing the same exact smile Niall does every time he sets eyes on Casey.

“Yes, that.” Harry looks down at his lap, seemingly content to prolong their stay in the parked car. And who is Louis to deny him that? “I like you and yet I barely know anything about you,” Harry says, intent and searching Louis’ face.

“I told you about my greatest humiliation, that must count for something.” Louis’ laugh is less bitter than he thought it would be, turning soft and fond around the edges. “Plus I barely know anything about you either.”

Harry sighs heavily, before saying slowly, deliberately, “I want to show you something.” He fishes his wallet out of his pocket, then hands something to Louis that was sticking out of it. It’s a polaroid, rumpled and yellowed at the corners, one that resembles exactly the one Harry took with his phone earlier. Louis takes it almost reverently, fingers trailing over the laminate. It’s just a picture of Harry’s hand simply holding a lemon meringue with his golden shoes in the frame but in the moment, it just feels like Louis has the privilege of being  invited into a private memory. Past and present mesh together in the weirdest most perfect way. It’s nothing short of special.

“What Gemma never knew was that the reason I loved the golden boots in the first place was because they reminded me of her, the golden colour was almost [ the same shade as the lemon meringue ](http://recipes.caprice-holdings.co.uk/recipes/lemon-meringue-pie/) I made for her.”

“Harry--” Louis looks up from the picture, eyes stinging for a reason unfathomable to him right now.

“She promised she’d buy me the [ red glittery boots ](https://product-images.barneys.com/is/image/Barneys/504882990_2_ShoeFrontQtr?%24pdp_flexH%24) to match my strawberry tart next. She never had the chance to.” Harry’s hand finds Louis’ where it was resting on his lap. “You remind me of her. You’re true to yourself, you’re not trying to impress me, you don’t lie. I like you, Lou.”

_You remind me of her._

_You don’t lie._

He doesn’t know if it’s because he realises how much of a fraud he is or because he’s just fallen in love with Harry Styles but Louis’ smile falls, he winces, feeling like he’s been punched in the solar plexus because _none_ of it is real, it was all crafted. Taking Harry to Silvia’s, telling him to wear his boots, going to the ballet, it was all part of _the plan_ . Nothing Harry’s referring to is really about Louis — or them.  It’s _all_ a lie.

He needs air. He needs-- he needs to get out of this constricting sportscar. Slipping out of Harry’s grip, he makes his way out but not before admitting a truth that feels like it’s ripped from his throat.

“I feel myself when I’m with you.” Louis says, looking away from Harry.

Harry takes Louis’ arm for the short walk leading them to the Hotel front, oblivious to Louis’ inner turmoil. Steps slowing down on the pavement, Harry finally pulls Louis to a stop, fingers digging into his bicep to make him face Harry fully.

“Louis--”

Harry swallows thickly, before trailing a lazy tongue over his lips, leaving them parted like an invitation. Louis can’t help but push Harry’s hair behind his baby ear, fingers ghosting down against the column of his milky throat where his adam’s apple is shifting alluringly.

This is the moment. This is so obviously the moment Harry is going to kiss him.

Harry leans down, ever so slightly, waiting for Louis to meet him halfway, but Louis stops him with a shaky digit over his lips. Louis ignores the sparks against his skin cutting through him like shockwaves and shakes his head pitifully. He can’t. He won’t. He won’t turn Harry into a cheater. Everything about this feels wrong, right down to the pit of his stomach.

Harry freezes, eyes wide in shock and mouth resting slightly open is surprise.

“You’re getting married,” Louis reminds Harry, helpless and cursing himself internally at the same time.

“I--I know,” Harry replies, an upset tilt to his lip.

“You’re getting married,” Louis says, softer this time, he doesn’t know what else he can say, his mind numb to any other information all of a sudden.

“Thank you.” Harry says, open and sincere. He squeezes Louis hand to show his appreciation.

Maybe Harry gets what Louis is trying to silently say.

Louis hopes he does. He really does.

 

**

 

Harry trails inside without another word. Louis however, stays rooted to the spot, shellshocked and dizzy, thoughts and feeling assaulting him all at once. He doesn’t have time to grieve the loss, the emptiness he already feels where his heart used to sit, right beside his chest bone because right there, materialising out of thin air, stand Simon and Anne, shaking their heads in unison, indicating they bore witness to the scene prior.

“You were right, Simon, as soon as it gets hard, he gives up.” Anne purses her lips in frustration, or maybe disappointment.

Harry’s mother quoting his dad has the effect of jolting Louis out of his trance at least. He’s not a quitter, he is not. For fuck’s sake.

“You’re wrong.” Louis tries to shout but it comes out feeble, like all the fight has been ripped out of him.

“Explain what you were doing just now, then?”

“It’s all part of the plan.” Louis is just a pathetic shell of a man saying a pitiful weak lie at this point.

“I don’t know if you’re the man for this job anymore.” Simon doesn’t know how right he is for once.

“Now is not the time to screw up,” Anne amends, gentler, putting a soothing hand on Louis’ shoulder, “You already did so much, don’t give up just before the finish line, son.”

Can the curb swallow him whole now?

 

**

 

As the sun begins to peek between the slightly parted curtains, draping its first rays all over the duvet, Casey  stirs up from sleep, smiling, and it takes her a few seconds to realise a few things.

For starters, she’s naked, like the day she was born. Two, there’s a warm body besides hers, slippery with sweat where their bodies are in contact and that body belongs to her best friend. Finally, she had sex with Niall fucking Horan.

She jolts up with a shriek, waking Niall up in the process, rapidly covering herself up with most of the blankets, which has the effect of uncovering Niall’s naked form. _Splendid plan, Casey._

Niall turns his head over, blinking slowly at her and thankfully keeping his junk glued to the mattress for now, giving her time to process - well- _everything_.

“I--” she begins.

“Don’t say it was a mistake, okay? Just don’t.” Niall’s face crumples under his worried scowl.

“That’s not what I was going to say.”

“Okay.” Niall patiently waits for her to elaborate, turning his body to her fully and revealing his morning wood. He doesn’t even seem to notice is the thing. So she starts giggling, uncontrollably, a new elated feeling breaking through her wariness. She’s seeing him in a new light, he, who was there from the start. When the hell did Niall become sexy? How the fuck did she not notice sooner?

“Actually I was going to apologise for taking advantage of you. You know, you were kind of a crybaby for a second there.” She may see him anew but her sarcasm remains intact. She doesn’t have time to elaborate because Niall is hitting the side of her face with the pillow, his bark of a laugh echoing in the quiet room.

“You’re gonna pay for that!”

They play/struggle for a while, biting, tickling, flush cheeked and happy until they’re interrupted by someone literally bursting the hotel room door open, like the Terminator. A giant mountain of muscle, looking completely enraged, barges in, grunting his way to the bed, where Casey huddles up on instinct near the top. Niall however, is on his feet at the speed of light, naked in all his glory reaching for the taser on the nightstand.

As the guy built like a tank falls like dead weight at Niall’s feet, fumes still emanating from where his flesh was signed by the taser, Niall looks at Casey, “Who the fuck is this guy?”

 

**

 

“How was it?” Liam asks, as soon as Harry enters the hotel suite. He’s in the bathroom, draping a towel around his middle, still dripping wet on the tile, freshly shaved and smiling. He’s asking about the bachelor party. Harry feels like it occurred a million years ago.

“Great,” Harry answers with an enthusiasm he doesn’t feel in his bones, uneasy to even be talking about his night with Liam. Even though nothing happened, thanks to Louis. He would’ve never been able to look himself in the mirror otherwise. Although, the feelings. The feelings are there, nagging at the back of his mind, a poorly veiled string of ‘liar liar pants on fire’ poking at the walls of his skull.

“I hope you’re not too tired, love, because we have a long day ahead of us.” Liam kisses the corner of Harry’s mouth in passing. Harry’s smile is strained but it could easily pass for fatigue.

As Harry’s feet lead him to the bay window with an open view on the Hotel pool down below, his eyes automatically find Louis there. He’s watching the sunrise, lost in thought, chin in his hands and elbows on one of the high tables near the pool. It’s so early still, six at the most, the pool boys aren’t even installing the chaises yet. Louis looks small there, petite frame clashing over the immensity of the pool’s background, even though to Harry he’s a force of nature-- strong, trustworthy and stable — but also capable of letting loose like no one else; fun, charming, amazing...He didn’t know there were still people who could do both — _be both._

“You better hurry, if you want to get married in a couple of hours,” Liam playfully urges, already putting on his impeccably ironed shirt.

Harry looks from one man to another, and just like that, the decision is made. But then again, it was done hours ago.

 

**

 

Louis’ compact body comes into focus as soon as Harry walks through the door that leads  outside. He hesitates for a second, heart beating rapidly against his ribcage, aware he was rejected an hour ago by the same man who seems lost in reverie right now. Then again, Louis should be sleeping the night off, instead he seems to be as tormented as Harry feels and Harry chooses to see that as a good omen.

When Harry slips his arm around Louis’ middle and squeezes tight, Louis doesn’t even startle, like he was expecting Harry all along. Like this is where Harry’s arms belonged from the start. Harry holds him as close as he can, nose nuzzling the side of Louis’ face. For a glorious minute, Louis leans back into it breathing heavily, like he’s wondering if any of this is real. For a moment Harry feels out of time, hugging a promise between his arms. Feeling free for the first time in a long time, maybe forever. Free of the guilt, the responsibilities, the weight of grieving and everything in between. Then he feels Louis tensing and turning around in Harry’s embrace so they’re face to face, Harry’s fingers still linked together even as Louis turns around, he’s so tiny.

Harry’s fingers find their way up on either side of Louis’ cheeks, and Louis’ hands trap Harry’s there. Vibrant eyes meet his. There’s torment clouding the clear blue of his eyes, turning them grey but that’s surely because Louis doesn’t know yet. He doesn’t know Harry chooses him.

Taking a shaky breath, Louis lowers Harry’s hands, but he keeps them in between his own, eyes cast down like he’s bracing himself for something.

“I was broken, Harry,” Louis says, as brokenly as he claims not to be anymore and Harry’s heart clenches. “I was drifting, weightless but you make me feel alive--”

“You woke me up, Lou,” Harry interrupts, a hand roaming the side of Louis’ face again, soothing, “You make me feel like I’m alive too--”

“Wait, let me finish please, I--” and then Louis stops, searching Harry’s face. “It’s too late for me to start all over again. I can’t make the same mistakes. It's inevitable everything that’s good comes to an end. I wish--” The words sound hollow to Harry’s ears, like someone else is speaking them and wearing Louis’ mask. His eyes say something totally different than what his mouth utters. Louis looks like he’s drowning here. He looks like he’s drowning and is asking for help.

It doesn’t make any sense at all.

“But-- I’m cancelling the whole thing, I’m gonna tell Liam he’s not the one for me.” Harry murmurs, voicing for the first time something he’s been repressing for far too long.

A flash of something passes in Louis eyes, is it fear, panic? Guilt? Harry doesn’t know, but Louis turns pale and his skin becomes clammy. He keeps Harry at arm’s length, warm hands on each sides of Harry’s shoulders, grip intense and grounding.

“Listen carefully, forget everything I just said. It was a great night, we had a good time, but that was it, okay?  Don’t be stupid, you’re not going to cancel your wedding, come on.”

It feels like an ice cold shower when Louis takes a step back, after saying the words with finality. Harry’s heart sinks, his knees threaten to buckle but it’s more because Louis left  Harry’s personal space, than anything else he said. He feels the loss in his bones.

How could Harry be so blind? How desperate and lonely must he have been to have misread the situation that much? Was it all in his head all along? A shiny distraction, a moving pattern?

But it felt real. It felt so real.

All he ever wanted was to be loved and love someone. Instead he was a victim of the glittery deception of fool's gold. Looking at Louis, bathed in the golden rays of the rising sun, he realises it’s all a mirage.

Harry’s hands start shaking uncontrollably, he has to squeeze them shut tight, his nails digging into his palms the only thing anchoring him because the rest of him feels like he’s been de-boned, knees wobbly like jelly, and arms turned into spaghetti.

Humiliated, eyes stinging, he leaves without another glance towards Louis.

He’s a fool.

 

**

 

Louis counts to a thousand before he even tries to move from the spot he’s been transfixed to, miserable and heartbroken, tears running down his cheeks uncontrollably. The last thing he needs is running into Harry in front of the elevator. It’s for the best, Louis reasons. How could they start anything based on a lie anyway? What could Louis possibly offer someone as wonderful as Harry? Absolutely nothing. He’s drowning in debt, sleeps on a couch and his career consists of deceiving people. At least with Payne, Harry will be taken care of. Anyone other than Louis would be better for Harry.   _Anyone._

As he makes his way back up to his suite, he has to wish away the sob threatening to escape his throat without his consent.

The phone vibrates in his pocket. It’s Anne.

 _“Your mission is over, Mister Tomlinson.”_ Anne states, dispassionate. If she wasn’t the one who wanted to break of the engagement in the first place, Louis would think she didn’t care at all.

“What is he going to do?” He manages to gasp out, heart sinking to his belly and dreading the answer as well as expecting it.

 _“He’s getting married and there’s nothing anyone can do about it.”_ Anne seems resigned at this point. _“He’s a big boy, Louis, it’s time for me to accept it. You did good, kid, you earned your paycheck, don’t blame yourself.”_

Louis’ snort turns into a pathetic sob, unforgiving and deserved.

If only she knew.

 

**

 

Louis enters the suite, ready to pack up and leave as fast they can manage, he’s still wiping his eyes furiously, tears that don’t seem to want to die down in the slightest. Fate apparently has other plans for him, he realizes as he enters complete mayhem in his suite.

“Who the fuck is this, Lou?” Casey shrieks, as soon as Louis closes the door shut behind him, pointing at the unconscious slumped form of Alberto in the bathtub.

Fucking hell. With everything else going on Louis totally forgot about him.  

Somehow amidst his noble gesture towards Harry, he forgot he had legitimate _financial_ reasons to accept the mission in the first place.

“We gotta go, right the fuck now, before he comes out of it.” Louis is already shoving his things into his suitcase in haste. He welcomes panic. Panic doesn’t hurt, panic won’t break his heart. Time is of the essence here, but Casey won’t relent without an explanation.

“How much do you owe them?” Casey asks, arms folded in front of her.

“Too much.”

“Fuck!” Anger melts into disappointment and fear on her features and she gets to work, putting her toiletries into her backpack, and sending worried looks Niall’s way every now and then.

 

**

They manage to leave while Alberto is still out cold in the suite’s tub. Thanking every god above, Louis gets in the elevator hastily, pushing the floor button jerkily a few times and mumbling “come on, come on, come on” under his breath fully aware it won’t make the elevator move any faster. The three of them take a lot of space, surrounded by all their luggage and when the elevator dings back open, he doesn’t even have to look up to know exactly who’s going to step inside.

Anne. With Harry.

Harry who looks exquisite in his simple black tuxedo. The shimmery belt and collar give him an ethereal quality, like he’s been showered in stardust, his hair radiating like it’s cast with sunrays.

He’s a supernova, a once in a lifetime sight.

Anne nods curtly, but Harry doesn’t make eye contact with Louis, which is just as well because the only thing Louis wants right now is to be swallowed by a black hole.

Placid and cold, Harry’s gaze falls on Niall, and his lips part in surprise, surely recognising who he thought was a repairman. Uneasy, Niall shifts, and because apparently God hates Louis Tomlinson, one of the files that were precariously balanced on top of the pile of luggage in their haste to escape Alberto falls to the ground, spilling everything that was hidden inside: surveillance pictures, itineraries, some of Liam’s post it notes, pap shots of Harry and Liam taken from the building across their place.

Anne has the decency to look away.

Louis doesn’t want to look up, eyes trained on the evidence of his betrayal like a punishment. He doesn’t have to see Harry to know he’s livid and shocked, the sharp intake of breath he took is enough of a hint.

Louis tries to concentrate on anything other than Harry…

Niall hurriedly trying to reassemble the file back together at their feet, mumbling apologies under his breath.

Casey, clearing her throat and looking intently at the ceiling.

Anne’s puzzled guilty scowl.  

Everything is better than hearing Harry’s laboured breathing. Once he realises it’s probably the last time he’s going to see Harry, Louis ultimately looks up.

He wishes he hadn’t. Harry looks like an erupting volcano. Spewing passion, spewing rage,  his eyes are a mix of disappointment and ferociousness, burning, burning, burning. Louis can almost see the blood boiling in Harry’s veins. The inside of Louis’ mouth tastes like ash. He wishes he could take solace in knowing that Harry had a moment, one fleeting moment, where he realized Liam might not be the man for him, but it’s gone as quick as it came. It’s fleeting because Louis knows who the man for him is, and it’s a sham. It’s the version of himself that he sold Harry. And now, because he’s a liar and a coward, and Harry is staring him down like he wants to burn him alive, Harry is marrying Liam. Who doesn’t deserve him, who won’t make Harry happy — not like he deserves.

The end of the elevator ride can’t come soon enough. Anne and Harry are out of there at the speed of light, while Louis and his team don’t move a muscle, apparently shocked into stillness.

“Sorry about the files, guys.” Niall finally says.

The truth will set you free, they say.

What a load of crap.

 

**

 

“There’s no shame in calling the whole thing off, Harry. You have nothing to prove to anyone,” Anne says gently, from the back of the car where a chauffeur is leading them to the wedding venue. Her demeanor is soft, but there’s nothing Harry’s mother could say, there’s nothing anyone could say to stop Harry now.

Harry stays silent. He’s positively furious. It took him one glance towards his mother’s guilty face in the elevator to understand Louis and her were in cahoots. He’s not about to lose an ounce of breath over her however, he may be angry at her, but he’s angrier at Louis for deceiving him, at himself for falling for it, for _him_.

“Since your sister died I learned my lesson, you’re your own man, you don’t need anyone or anything. I get that. You have a wonderful career. You don’t need me. But you don’t need Payne either.” Anne is relentless. “If you’re doing this to walk in her footsteps, you’ve already achieved that. Liam is a great guy, don’t get me wrong, kind, smart, nice. But you’re going to die of boredom with him. So why the hell are you doing this?”

At that, Harry turns.

“I’m going to open a worldwide charity. To cure cancer, to raise awareness, to help people.”

“Oh Harry.” Anne features turn soft, almost pitying. “You-- this isn’t what she would’ve wanted for you. Your happiness is more important, it always has been.”  

Harry thought so too. For a minute this morning, he had bathed in that same illusion.

Now he’s just lost.

 

**

 

Liam is there to greet Harry once the car parks in the venue’s front court. He stands just about where the gravel ends and the grass begins, clad in a pristine suit that brings out his eyes.

“Honey, I know it’s supposed to bring bad luck to see the groom before the wedding but you look incredible,” Liam says upon opening the door for Harry. He kisses Harry’s cheek, chastely, both hands resting on Harry’s shoulders.

Anne waves at them in passing, not even greeting Liam hello and Harry sees how disapproving - and disappointed - she is all over her face, making her way inside with a scowl and a shake of her head. But Harry has other things to focus on at the moment.

“I’m sorry Liam, about, being so-- urgh.” Harry grunts, flailing his arms around hoping Liam will catch his drift. An apology is the least Harry owes him, given the whole situation.

“About what? A week before a wedding, it’s only natural to have a little case of cold feet with all the stress.” Liam dismisses, as forgiving and nice as always.

“You think so?”

“Yeah, having doubts is human, love.” Liam seems to hesitate before continuing, “I-- I saw you with him this morning.”

Harry’s breath catches. Liam doesn’t even look mad. He looks like he’s merely making an observation. Not even jealous looking in the slightest.

_If I had you to call mine I wouldn’t want you to get a couple’s massage with someone else._

Harry shakes himself out of the memory.

“Do you have any? Doubts, I mean,” he manages to pant out, hoarse and tired, feeling like he needs the reassurance.

“None whatsoever.” Despite Liam’s reassuring smile, the admission doesn’t soothe Harry at all. “The first moment I laid eyes on you, I knew you were the one.”

He doesn’t need reassurance about Liam’s feelings, Harry just wants to know if what he’s feeling is normal, if he isn’t losing his mind completely. It would make him feel better to know Liam is on the same wavelength.

As Liam takes his hand and leads him inside, a serene smile painted on his face, Harry can’t help but feel that they’re not on the same page. He’s not even sure they’re on the same continent at this point.

 

**

 

At Gare du Nord, where Louis, Casey and Niall are queuing to check in for their Eurostar train back to London, Casey keeps casting Louis annoying judgmental side glances. Her hand is neatly folded in Niall’s pocket, and Louis’ heart clenches, thinking about Niall’s tale earlier in the cab of how Casey and him got together. Casey was flushing the whole time, feigning indifference but failing miserably as she listened to all the flattering things Niall had to say about her and how romantically he recalls the previous night.

Louis didn’t even have the strength to congratulate them, a lump having formed permanently in his throat since this morning rendering his speaking sporadic. Louis keeps thinking about why he tanked the mission when he was so close to succeeding. He remembers all the people he saved during the eight years he’s been doing this job. For some unfathomable reason, he’s reminded of the leaflet _Over Again Inc._ the team uses to bait potential clients.

_In relationships, there are three types of people: those who are happy, those who are unhappy but accept it and deal, those who are unhappy and in denial._

Handling this last category is Louis’ job, he’s here to help them. His profession: break up their relationship. His goal: open their eyes. His method: seduction. He’s supposed to break people up, NOT their hearts.

Today he broke his own heart.

Niall is the one to break him out of his reverie.

“Man, I’m happy to finally go home for a while,” Niall says, “get back to our lives.” He squeezes Casey’s shoulder whose eyes go soft just before resuming her glaring at Louis. Louis is too numb to care.

“What about you, Lou? What are you going back to?” She snarks, rather viciously. “Your sad pathetic life? Your little white lies and your flings?”

“Don’t hold your punches there or anything.” Louis shakes his head unbelieving. A lecture is the last thing he needs, especially from his best friend. Is it too much to ask for a little support?

“I don’t know.” She flails her arms around, and the motion makes her fringe fall into her eyes. “I mean, you met someone you genuinely liked for once and you managed to fuck it all up.”

“You’re right, but--” Louis defends, but as always, Casey is like a dog with a bone when she sets her mind to something.

“But what Louis? _What_?” She sighs heavily through her nostrils, like she’s tired of Louis’ bullshit. That makes two of them. “Tell me, what happened last night?”

“A dream,” Louis replies without missing a beat, regret and sadness clouding his voice.

“But that’s okay, right? With that face of yours, you’re going to meet another Harry in no time or someone else you’re going to forget the name of once you’ve fucked them, is that it?” She spits, unforgiving, sarcasm oozing from her pores.

Louis remains silent. He knows her, if he engages it’ll make things worse. He’s also wary because she always knows how to push his buttons. So this might just be the tip of the iceberg. He discovers he’s right the second after.

“I can’t believe you proved your dad right, of all people. The one person who was so wrong about you when you were fifteen. I can’t believe you turned into _that_ person. A fucking coward. I can barely recognise you anymore! As soon as it gets tough, you really do give up.”

Louis just completely loses it at that, the rubber band of their push and pull relationship snapping and pulling him out of his numbness at once.

“What the fuck do you want from me, huh?” He roars, all eyes turning to him in the busy train station. “I didn’t give up! I just set him free because he deserves so much better than me! I have nothing to offer him!”

Casey matches him in volume right away, vein pulsing on the side of her neck. “And how is your flawless plan working out so far? You think you’re doing him a favour? He’s going to be trapped in a loveless marriage, you dumb fuck! Is it really what you want for him? And you?  You-- Years. I’ve been waiting years to see you open up to someone again, Louis! If anything you need saving as much as he does!”

“Go to hell!” He yells looking at her and Niall alternately, feeling that they both deserve his wrath. “The both of you! Fuck you! Fuck you too, Niall!” Rage contorts his face, making his ears buzz with static so he ignores Niall’s feeble ”Hey, I didn’t say a thing here but I agree with Casey.” Louis leaves the train station like a fury, abandoning his friends, and his luggage along with the little self esteem he had left.

When he reaches the station’s sliding doors, he looks back on instinct. He finds both Niall and Casey smiling at him brightly and waving at him, like parents watching their kids leave for Hogwarts on platform 9 ¾. Casey’s eyes are glistening from tears and Niall is giving him a double thumbs up.

“Go get him! I’m so proud of you.” Casey shouts and her voice echoes in the great hall, but it feels like the shockwave Louis needed to trigger his system back to gear. The blood in his veins finally starts flowing again. Louis smiles back. He has the best friends in the world. Before he fully registers the immensity of what he’s about to do, he starts running, praying to all the gods above he’s not too late.

He climbs into the first cab he sees, pushing someone out of his way to do so. He’s not even sorry, he’s a man on a mission. And for once it’s not that kind of a mission. The cab driver is a woman, with a long serious face that could put Casey to shame. After giving her the wedding venue’s address, Louis settles back on his seat, catching his breath, and checking his pockets hurriedly. Crap, he left everything behind, including his wallet in his jacket.

Okay then that means, one last scam. Louis counts it as his last hurrah before completely  turning his life around. He waits until he’s at an appropriate distance from the venue to make his approach.

“What’s your name, love?” Louis asks, making friendly eye contact with the driver through the rearview mirror.

“Lacey, sir,” she replies, with a French heavy accent.

“Nice to meet you.” Louis’ smile turns bigger. “I’m going after the man of my dreams, Lacey.”

“That’s great, sir.” Her face doesn’t reflect the enthusiasm of the statement, she doesn’t return his smile.

“I’m telling you because I don’t have any money on me and--”

The cars pulls to an abrupt stop, tires shrieking against the concrete and he’s manhandled out of the car before he even has time to finish his sentence. It’s okay though, he’s only two or three kilometers away and the idea of what he’s about to do alone is enough to give him wings. And so he starts running.

He’d run until his lungs gave out if he had to.

 

**

 

Walking down the aisle, Harry has the opportunity to really take in what he’s been working towards for weeks, planning this wedding. The garden is beautiful, adorned with an array of big arcs leading to a platform where the wedding officer and Liam are waiting. On each arch, a million white flowers have been delicately hung one by one, along with white satin ribbons and balloons. On either side of the alley, white chairs have been arranged in neat rows from which the guests are now staring at him, expectant and smiling, among them Zayn and Nick. It’s as elegant as he envisioned it, everything is exactly where it’s supposed to be.

Absolutely not messy in the slightest.

 _I like it when things are messy_.

_I bet you never baked a lopsided cake in your entire life._

As he’s led down the aisle by his mother, Harry suddenly feels a wave of sadness wash over him that’s soon replaced by another one of disappointment and anger. These feelings he has bottled up demand to be let out now, when, a few days ago, he would have just buried them.

“Tell me mum,” Harry asks, under his breath, keeping his smiling facade intact, “How much does it cost to hire a guy who’d go as far as being run over by a car to seduce someone?”

“It’s free, darling,” she says casually, “he refused the money. Loving you, it’s free.” Harry flinches, taken completely off guard. Breathing suddenly stuttering, he slows down, feet dragging on the carpet. He has to take a good look at his mother to make sure it’s not another ploy. What throws Harry off is her expression then, open and bright, eyes soft and glistening, just like the memory he has of her, before she started running her illegal business with “uncle Simon”, before she hid Gemma’s disease, before all he ever thought about his family turned out to be a lie. Harry supposes he can think about that later, he has bigger fish to fry right now.

Louis refused the money. _Louis refused the money._

It strikes Harry what all of this could mean. Assaulted by memories of Louis looking completely lost, helpless and tormented by the pool this morning and throwing horrible words at him that didn’t match what Harry saw in his eyes.

Could this mean-- Can it be--? Does he want to find out?

“In front of the venue, there’s a car,” Anne murmurs into his ear before kissing him on the cheek, ready to give him away to Liam. “Keys are in the ignition.” It’s a secret shared between them low enough not to be heard by anyone and Harry’s registers this information, with his eyes cast on the ground. Once he looks up, he’s going to see Liam smiling back at him, hand extended in invitation, ready to commit to him for the rest of his life.

As his prediction comes true, Harry’s breath catches. He can’t do this.

Not to Liam, not to himself.

“Liam, I’m so sorry,” Harry whispers hoarsely, but it’s enough for Liam to understand. He takes a step back in shock, lips parting instantly.

Harry doesn’t think. Not anymore — he starts running the other way, without a second glance back. He’s in the car before he even registers his cheeks are damp from tears, but also his cheeks hurt too, because he’s smiling so big. He’s not even deterred by the truck blocking the road a few meters ahead, he has to find him.

He gets out of the car, and starts running, pondering what he could do and where Louis could be when he sees a moving form running in his direction.

He instantly knows who it is.

 

**

 

Louis has to pinch himself to make sure he’s not dreaming. There, at the other end of the road, he’s pretty sure Harry is running towards him. And that can’t be true. Louis Tomlinson was never one to have good luck. Still he has to make sure of it, just in case, because there’s no way he’s going to give up this time if there’s even the slightest chance.

It’s him. It’s really really him.

Once Louis reaches him, sweaty and panting, breathing irregularly and laboured, he has to say his piece, he _has_ to. He has to put it all out in the open or else he feels like he’s going to explode.

“I hate fajitas, The Beach boys suck, I don’t have a bad back, but I have loved Grease since I was a little boy,” Louis blurts, voice wet and garbly. “I don’t know if I’m good enough for you, Harry. I’m crawling under debts, I don’t have a private jet, I don’t even have my own flat, I live in my office most of the time, which isn’t even a proper office, it’s an old tour bus parked in the garden of an old client. I scam people for a living with my two best friends who are like family to me. But-- Harry, I’m tired of playing games. I don’t want to play games with you. I don’t know what I’m going to do with myself if I can’t see you everyday, see you smile, or just hear you breathe and make sure you’re okay.” He can feel the tears free falling down the sides of his face and catching at the corners of his smile. “Pick me, choose me, love me, please, I’ll do everything in my power to make you happy.”

He stares at Harry intensely, eyes roaming over his face, waiting for him to process all that he’s just heard, waiting for him to say something, anything. Then Harry smiles and it feels like staring into the sun.

Stare into the sun and the shadows fall behind you.

“I’m here, aren’t I?” He says, like it’s explanation enough. Louis supposes it is. Actions do speak louder than words even if he still has trouble grasping that any of this — Harry actually standing in front of him is real.

“You’re here,” Louis replies, amazed. His bottom lip feels tingly. “I can’t believe you’re here.”

Harry doesn’t reply. Instead, he licks his lips and captures Louis’ cheeks in his hands, leaning down to kiss him, and then crashing into him, needy and claiming and greedy all at once. All Louis can do is helplessly take it. As Harry makes hot languid circles with his tongue inside of Louis’ mouth, Louis can only let out tiny faint whimpers. It feels like he’s going to float away any minute now, the only thing grounding him the tight grip of Harry’s hands.

Kissing Harry feels like wildfire set to life, hot and burning, Louis’ extremities shiver with something like static sending shockwaves through his limbs. For a moment he doesn’t move, relishing the feeling of being kissed and claimed, Harry’s body hot against his own making him feel completely enveloped, protected and loved.

When Harry draws back, his cheeks are flushed a deep pink, and his hands still feel warm against Louis’ face. He takes a few shuddering breaths, all the while biting down on his  perfect glistening bottom lip.

Louis’ hands itch to touch him so he does, fingertips rising to the side of Harry’s throat, where his shirt collar has opened and Louis can feel his irregular, erratic pulse. Harry lets him trail his fingers to the side of his jaw, exploring up his ears then back against his neck, fingers catching in his loose curls.

The second kiss they share is just as ardent and passionate if not more. Louis guides Harry’s mouth to his but Harry is right there with him, giving back with as much fervor , squeezing his hands around Louis’ waist, keeping him close. Harry kisses with all he has to give, intense heat radiating through him, like a furnace, an inferno, an erupting volcano.

They say nothing blooms anymore after a volcano has erupted.

Louis would beg to differ.

 

**

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "Pick me, choose me, love me" is a line from a [famous speech](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=st2jamNWcJM) delivered by Meredith in Grey's Anatomy. 
> 
> "You"re getting married" is also [a line from](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=KVpNYNDPrOw) Grey's Anatomy. Well not really because these words could be said in anything but the way Jackson delivers it the second time says it all and is exactly how I picture Louis saying it.


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you're not craving lemon meringue as much I am.

_“Love, my territory of kisses and volcanoes.”_

__-[Pablo Neruda](http://www.goodreads.com/author/show/4026.Pablo_Neruda) _ _,_ [ _100 Love Sonnets_ ](http://www.goodreads.com/work/quotes/9295) _

 

 

**2 months later**

Once a week, in her office situated in the back of her furniture shop, Anne Styles hosts a poker game for her lieutenants. It’s good for morale, or so Anne thinks anyway. The invite usually doesn’t extend to minions, but today she specifically asked Simon Cowell to invite Wootton and Alberto. They clash a little in the midst of the higher ups of her successful “side business”. Judging by the little squees Wootton is emitting since the game has started, Anne gathers he’s pretty happy to be here, or maybe it’s because he’s winning.

Wootton doesn’t know about the unspoken rule of letting Anne win every time evidently. How is she expected to be in a good mood if she can’t even win a little game of cards for spare cash? Does she have to spell out _everything_?

Anne sighs.

Some people simply can’t grasp simple etiquette.

At least, Simon, her right-hand man, seems to be on the same wavelength as her, he keeps trying to signal Wootton to tone it down, his head jerking to the side, trying to kick Wootton’s shins under the table. Wootton seems completely oblivious to it. He squawks in delight unattractively with every coin won. Thank God, Alberto keeps the proverbial poker face throughout the game at least.

It’s a wonder her business thrives as much as it does really when she has people like Dan Wootton on her payroll. _Idiot._

When the game ends, she takes a little time to line neat piles of money over her desk,  adding a little more to Wootton’s pile since he’s won the game (no she’s not bitter about it at all),  Wootton stands in front of her desk, greedily watching, like it’s payday.

“Well done, the both of you,” she says, addressing Wootton and Alberto. “It worked like a charm.” She goes to hand Wootton his share but then retracts it before Wootton can put his sweaty paw on it, eyeing him suspiciously. “So we’re in an agreement Louis will never know I’m the one he owed money to?”

“Of course not,” Wootton replies, a little affronted, “I’m a pro.”

God, men are so useless. This is the number one reason she never remarried after her divorce twenty five years ago.

“And Al here is a vault,” Wootton adds, thumbing Alberto’s way. “Plus Tomlinson is too stupid to connect the dots anyway.”

Anne’s fist connects with her desk with a bang.

“Don’t you ever talk about my son’s boyfriend like that again, got it?”

“Sorry boss.” Wootton’s eyes widen, his voice trembling as much as his knees as he makes eye contact with Anne’s security detail, standing beside to door, waiting for a signal to vulture down on him.

“Good.” Anne signals the guard to stand down with two imperious fingers. “I don’t want him to feel he has that shadow over his head, so go and tell him you’ll forget about his debt and that he’s off the hook.”

“But my reputation--”

She couldn’t care less about Wootton’s reputation.

As far as Anne is concerned, Louis has expunged his debt three times over by making sure Harry didn’t marry Payne and subsequently by making her son the most happy he’s ever been. Louis simply doesn't have to know about the technicalities. Neither Louis nor Harry have to know that she held both the carrot _and_ the stick where the mission was concerned.

Anne was thorough when she made  sure that Louis owed “her” money (using  Wootton as her cover). The debt was just incentive for him to accept the mission in the first place. With Louis’ so called “principles” about not breaking just _any_ couple up, Anne didn’t want to take the risk of being turned down, Liam and Harry _did_ look happy on paper after all. So she made it so he was in her debt through Wootton (Alberto’s touch was also a genius one, if she does say so herself) and offered an easy solution to all of his problem through Simon.

The whole thing went off perfectly. Her devious mind orchestrated the whole thing and no one, especially her son, were none the wiser.

Harry would just tell her she needs therapy.

“ _Now_ , Wootton.” One look over her glasses and he’s dismissed.

She glances at her watch. She’s late. Harry and Louis are coming for dinner in an hour and this sunday roast is not going to cook itself. Thankfully, Harry is bringing dessert.

 

**

 

**6 months later**

Eight months after Paris, everything is different. And when Louis says different, he means, totally, absolutely different, for everybody involved and in a good way too. Who would’ve thought?

Liam turned out okay after being left at the altar. he wasn’t a bad lad, to the contrary. He deserved some sweet happiness, he just wasn’t a good fit for Harry. So Louis is rather happy everything turned out for the best for him. Since he’s now in a relationship with Zayn (yes, that happened), it’s pretty fortunate Louis likes the guy, he does have to see him regularly, Zayn being Harry’s best friend and all.

You’d think that Liam and Zayn as a couple would be the most quiet company but they surprisingly tease each other out quite a bit. They’re a good fit. Louis knew Zayn was it when they got matching tattoos somewhere where everyone -including Liam’s parents- could see. Louis suspects Nick joins them on the regular in the bedroom too, which is something Louis wishes Nick had never hinted at _ever_. Louis has had brain damage ever since that little slip of the tongue.

Niall and Casey have been holding on the _Over Again Inc_ . fort. Niall is a poor man’s Louis when it comes to seducing the pants off the targets but they make do. His lack of prowess can mostly be attributed to the fact it’s very hard feigning infatuation with anyone when you’re in fact head over heals in love with someone else. Louis should know, he decided to quit the whole couple breaking thing for the same reason. He was even happy handling the logistics and coaching Niall for a while. Casey is _very_ supportive of her man despite his lack of results, because he is giving it his all. Now that she’s in charge, Casey is vetting Nick to join the team. That should be fun.

Louis quit _Over Again Inc._ two months after meeting Harry. It felt right to start over and give the acting career a real shot. Harry may have had something to do with that. Now Louis spends his time between auditions, giving a hand in Harry’s Pastry shop on occasion and taking care of his boy.

Louis is still poor as fuck, but he’s happier than he’s ever been. He’s out of debt, sure, by some kind of unexplainable miracle, but he’s still a struggling actor which is apparently a turn on to Harry because he jumps Louis’ bones every time he comes home from a failed audition. Being greeted at the door with a consolatory blowjob is a great ego boost, and, besides, he’s not one to refuse anything to Harry ever.

They moved in together into their own shoebox in Camden a month ago. It’s positively minuscule but it’s theirs. It also has the perks of being free of Niall’s sex sounds (ew ew ew, Louis could’ve lived his whole life without knowing what Niall sounds like when he comes-- or Casey for that matter). Frankly, Harry could afford a bigger flat but Louis wanted to chip in as much as Harry so they found a good common ground.

As a couple, they found balance, which wasn’t a given, seeing the way they got together in the first place.

It took a little adjusting when they got home after Paris. Harry had to move out from his shared with Liam (awkward) and Louis had to come clean about his whole business (awkward). Harry was surprisingly understanding despite being speechless on multiple occasions. They talked a lot. They learned to know each other, but most of all, Louis promised not to lie to Harry ever again.

Louis has delivered on that.

Harry is working on being his true self, exploring the side of himself he buried for too long, but despite what you might think, a butterfly doesn’t shed its cocoon overnight; it took a certain amount of grieving therapy but he’s getting there.  Louis has been there to help every step of the way.

What’s fun to explore with someone who spent years trying to quiet down every single spontaneous part of themselves, who was dormant, and _repressed_ as Harry was is--

Kinks.

What’s really, _really_ fun for Harry, given the fact that his boyfriend is an actor is--

Role play.

And that has turned out to be quite the turn on for the both of them over the course of the last year.

Riding Harry while pretending to be the plumber to Harry’s wobegon house husband with a broken sink was a treat, Harry really got his pipes cleaned out, so to speak.

When Louis pretended to be a firefighter, Harry sucked his brains out. Louis really got to put that fire out. Harry may or may not have bought him a [ “Got Hose” shirt ](https://images-na.ssl-images-amazon.com/images/I/61kLXDxxNnL._SL1366_.jpg) after. Louis wears it proudly.

When Harry was a carpenter, proving how good he was with his hands, as Louis acted as his wood tech professor, Louis got nailed to the wall. The photos hanging from the wall have never quite hung straight since.   

Playing Danny Zucko when Harry was Sandy --wearing smudged red lipstick and leather pants-- led to the best sex Louis has ever had, hands _jives_ down.

Sometimes, for kicks, when Harry feels like it, Louis plays bodyguard and Harry plays a target.  He was Whitney Houston once. Louis had to steal Niall’s lightsaber to pull that off. He refused to let Harry use a real sabre, Harry pouted, Louis made it up to him by fucking him four times that night. Louis came to the conclusion that he really really loves guarding Harry’s body. Plus sated Harry is just a sight for sore eyes.

Tonight though, tonight they’re trying something different, something new. Something Harry asked for specifically, and Louis can’t wait. Seated in the bedroom, waiting for Harry to finish getting ready, he’s practically vibrating from excitement, adjusting his slacks and squeezing the sketchbook closer to his chest.

With bated breath, he knocks on the living room door.

Harry opens it almost instantly. He’s wearing his hair tied in a loose bun atop his head, and a light pink silky robe that goes all the way down to his calves that gives him the elegance of a swan. As always, he takes Louis’ breath away.

“Jack,” Harry says at the end of a gasp, clasping a hand on his heart. “You’re here.”

“Rose.” Louis smiles casually. “Is it a good time my lady? Are you ready to show me that big, hard, rock of yours?”

It’s been a little while since Louis watched the movie ‘Titanic’, but he’s confident he can swing it. Improv has always been one of Louis’ favorite things after all. They’re supposed to recreate the scene where Rose asks Jack to ‘draw her like one of his French girls’, which means Harry is going to be naked soon. Louis’ mouth waters.

Harry is waiting for Louis’ cue by the sofa, soft and delicate all while keeping the robe firmly shut with a fist on his navel. In his other hand, lies a blue (fake) diamond the size of Louis’ fist dangling at the end of a silver necklace.

Louis goes to sit at the edge of the sofa, beckoning Harry closer.

“Okay, come and lean back on me.” Louis asks, voice already fucked when nothing has even happened yet. He plans on kissing Harry a little and getting away with it, before getting fully into character and into the scene, maybe even go as far as a little soft sucking on Harry’s cock if Harry allows it. Sometimes Harry can be distracted and Louis loves seeing Harry’s feathers ruffle when things don’t go as planned. It’s part of their dynamic.

“Why?” Harry asks, frowning slightly. Ah yes, Louis made a request.

“Is it not the scene where they are in the steaming car?” Louis feigns innocence.

“I-- I don’t think so.” Harry knits his eyebrow together just a tad. He looks like a rumpled kitten.

“Oh no! Is it the king of the world part, then?” Louis looks up, a hand over the lower half of his face, as if he was searching his memory. “Or is it when they’re on the door about to die?”

“Why would-- Why would Rose ask Jack to draw her like one of his French girls when they’re about to die?” Harry chuckles, light, and airy, finding this amusing. “Like ‘Hey wait a second, will you draw me? When we’re surrounded by freezing water and about to die? Hold my big rock, please?’”

“Oh crap, you’re right!” Louis gasps, and decides the charade has lasted long enough. “Shit, baby, we’re breaking character, this is not as sexy as it should be.” It’s really not. But this? This is the fun part, something Harry desperately needs and Louis provides without being obvious about it. What can he say, he _knows_ his boy.

“Time to regroup.” Harry claps his hand together. “You inspect the rock, and then I say the line and then you just draw me and then sexy times.”

“Sexy times.” Louis, as always, only remembers the part he wants to.

“Yes, silly.” Harry giggles, sitting besides Louis and kissing him on the cheek. Louis’ hand falls on Harry’s knee. The silky material licks as his fingertips pleasantly just as soft as Harry’s skin is. Louis decides to tease Harry one more time.

“Did you shave your legs?”

“No,” Harry answers, “I told you I would when we do the sexy nurse thing.”

“Oh yeah! Sorry.”

“You know, I thought you’d be better at this seducing thingie. Wasn’t it your job for a while?” Harry nudges Louis’ shoulder with his own, sweet chuckles falling from his lips. Louis is overjoyed, he loves it when Harry banters back, and he always does, without fail.

“That’s enough sass coming from you.” Louis squeezes Harry’s hand, guides it to his lips to deposit a lingering kiss on Harry’s knuckles, “Let’s get back to the task at hand, shall we? You were talking about a big rock?”

“Yeah. A big hard rock,” Harry cooes. His grin reaches his eyes. It always does nowadays and that might be Louis’ greatest accomplishment.

“I remember the scene now.”

“Finally! I might worry if you prepare for all of your roles like this.”

Louis should tell him he got a call back to be the lead in the rom com. Being the next Hugh Grant should earn him lots of sexy times. He’ll tell Harry all about it later. Maybe they’ll do a Notting Hill scene next time.

As Louis examines the diamond, bringing it close to his face and feeling its weight between his fingers with Harry roaming all over his back and sides, doe eyed and eager  to move things forward.

“Jack?”

Louis noses up from the rock. “Rose?”

“I want you to draw me like one of your french girls, wearing this.”

“All right.”

Louis then lays out his pencils like they’re surgical tools, methodical and focused like Leonardo in the movie. His sketchbook is open and ready.

“Wearing only this.” Louis looks up. Their eyes meet, the air suddenly charged with electricity. “The last thing I need is another picture of me looking like a china doll,” Harry suddenly laments, and Louis bites back a snort. Harry is giving this thing his all, the back of his hand touching his forehead like a drama queen. He’s so precious.

“As a paying customer, I expect to get what I want.” Harry throws Louis a penny that lands at Louis’ feet instead of his hand. He pays it no mind because then, Harry open his robe and it falls at his feet, creating what looks like a pink silky pool around his ankles. The blue stone lies on his muscular torso, right between his swallow tattoos. He removes his hair tie, shaking his head until his curls fall freely over his milky shoulders.

He looks like a modern [ Botticelli’s Venus ](http://www.oeuvres-art.com/images/large/naissance-venus-sandro-botticelli.jpg). Naked in all his glory and so so so beautiful.  

Louis is such a lucky bastard, he wants to cry.

“Tell me how you want me,” Harry asks, voice turned hoarse. He’s asking about the pose for the drawing, but Louis’ mind goes directly to something else. _Be patient._

Without waiting for Louis’ answer, Harry poses on the couch, settling awkwardly like he doesn’t know what to do with his limbs so Louis helps him, like Jack would with Rose.

“Uhmm-- just bend your left leg a little and-- and lower your head. Eyes to me. That's it.”

As soon as Louis’ hands touch Harry’s forearms to arrange them around his face, Harry is clearly affected, eyes going dark, adam’s apple bobbing and breath catching. Louis loves how responsive Harry is. He whines under his breath once Louis returns to his seat across the room to start drawing.

Once Harry’s in full view in front of him, Louis drops his pencil, pulse skyrocketing and Harry stifles a laugh.

“I believe you are blushing, Mr. Big Artist. I can't imagine Monet blushing.”

Ignoring the jump of his cock trapped behind two layers of fabric, Louis wipes the sheen of sweat from his forehead, he’s not really blushing but he’s playing coy for the scene’s sake.

“Monet does landscapes,” Louis points out, before resuming his drawing, which resembles more a stick man with a semi than anything else remotely artful. Well, it’s not destined to be pinned above the fireplace anyway, so it’ll do. He pretends to draw with sure strokes, playing the part right, relishing what’s in front of him (that part is real). Harry’s pose is languid, with his hands framing his face, eyes radiating want and desire. Louis tries not to stare but it’s hard when his looking seems to stir Harry’s cock awake. He’s almost fully hard now, just from being _looked at_. His cock jerks a little precome when Louis drags his tongue along his lower lip.

Louis’s heart is pounding against his chest.

“I don’t think this is good, Rose,” Louis says, going off script, “I think I’m going to have a touch to really have a feel for your shape and form, if I want to be able to recreate it.”

“I’m not one to stand in the way of art,” Harry replies, flexing his index to allure Louis closer.

“I had a feeling you were the artist’s patron type.” Louis kneels before him and Harry’s breathing stutters for it.

“Are you nervous?”

“Put your hands on me, Jack.” Harry is looking intently at Louis, pupils so dilated, his eyes are almost black.

Who’s Louis to deny him? He trails his hand along Harry’s side, keeping the touch feather like, just to make Harry tremble, his own cock jerking a little bit of precome in his pants because of it — the feel of Harry’s skin under his hand like satin.

“Do you feel me like this?” Harry asks around a gasp, eyes half closed.

“Not quite,” Louis answers hotly, squeezing once he reaches Harry’s arse cheek, “I think I’m going to need a taste, too.”

“Go ahead then,” Harry says, rolling on his belly and watching Louis from underneath his eyelashes. “I’m all yours. Do with me what you want.”

Louis doesn’t have to be told twice. He intended to suck Harry originally, but the swell of Harry’s bum up in the air, inviting and soft for him is too enticing to pass up.

The smell of him is intoxicating too, Louis recognises the rose petal bubble bath he bought just a few days ago.

He resists the urge to just press up against Harry’s arse and, instead, leans comfortably in between Harry’s legs, his soft, creamy, firm bum twitching in anticipation. With two hands full of arse, Louis uncovers Harry’s pretty hole, tight, and pink like the silky robe long forgotten. He gives his lips a lick, making them moist before licking a long stripe against Harry’s hole which has the effect of turning him into putty, a broken moan immediately escaping Harry’s throat, like he’s been holding it back for just this moment. He does like being eaten out a lot. They both do actually.

“Rose,” Louis breathes, “you're trembling.”

“It's okay.” Harry shakes his bum, voice constricted, urging Louis to go on, “I'm all right.”

Louis complies, alternating soft kitten like licks with long thorough ones, just like Harry likes it, his tongue catching every once in awhile on Harry’s pouting rim. When it does, Harry moans softly into the sofa cushion, and he tenses up, toes curling, pushing his arse back against Louis’ tongue, as if to say, I’m ready, come on in the water is warm.

And warm he is. Louis can’t stop himself from reaching out to caress the endless golden skin on Harry’s back, joining the dots of the freckles there, just because he can. At the same time, he breaches inside Harry with his tongue, and pushes as far as he can reach against Harry’s walls. His jaw is becoming stiff, a little achy, but he could do this all day if Harry asked him to — if it got Harry to sound like this, to move like _that_.

The next moan Harry emits resembles a sob and that’s when Louis knows it’s time to move things along. Harry is going to want to be fucked any minute now, and Louis is nowhere near ready, still fully clothed, and itching to get his fingers inside Harry like, yesterday. He detaches his mouth from Harry’s hole long enough to reach for the lube he stashed earlier under the couch. Harry whines at the loss, trying to blindly reach behind him, needy as hell, so Louis catches his hand, knowing Harry likes to hold on to him when he’s being eaten out, like he needs something to ground him.

Louis is happy to ground him.

“Shhhh, I’m here baby, I’m here,” Louis soothes and it seems to appease him a little and  Harry sighs through his nose, settled, stuttering breath calming down. Louis coats his fingers generously and starts pushing a fingertip in without any warning. Harry just relaxes around it, like he anticipated it, whining at the stretch, like he knows he’s going to be full really soon.

“You want a second finger?”

“I want cock,” Harry chokes out inside his elbow without missing a beat.

Louis chuckles. He’s not going to stuff his cock in there when Harry is not prepared enough to take it.

“Impatient perfect bo-- girl.” It’s a little hard staying focused when Harry looks so edible in front him. Still, he adds another finger, twisting his wrist until Harry emits that familiar low moan, from deep in his throat indicating Louis found the spot.

“Jack-- I’m ready, Jack.” Harry’s voice is thin and reedy, with an edge of desperation as he pushes back against Louis’ fingers and Louis suddenly feels hot all over, very aware of his painful erection, clothes constricting like never before.

“You sure? I--”

“Get in there!” Harry whine-orders. Louis is pretty sure Harry wants it to hurt a little bit. He’s committed, Harry is, when he plays a part.

“Okay.” Louis gets rid of his clothes at the speed of light, very aware he’s being watched, Harry’s looking back at him intently, elbows trapped under his body.

Freeing his cock feels like coming up for air after being underwater for too long for Louis and Harry can’t look away.

Silently, Harry slides down the couch and drags himself on all fours, crawling like a prowling cat, until he’s at Louis feet.

Without a word, he stuffs the entirety of Louis’ cock inside his throat, sighing deeply through his nose, once it makes contact with Louis’ lower belly. The only thing Louis can do is moan, almost in relief and tangle his fingers in Harry’s hair.

“Oh God baby, do I love your mouth.”

Harry’s eager, sucking him like he would a popsicle, paying attention to the head, exactly the way Louis likes it, tongue circling around the crown then following the path of his vein. Louis can’t help but give little shallow thrust, when Harry takes him full again, and Harry encourages him, blinking up slowly with big moist trusting eyes so full of love, nodding just slightly. He keeps bobbing his head in earnest, diamond jumping with every movement of his head.

“Up, up, up.” Louis suddenly grabs Harry’s shoulders, cock slipping out of Harry’s mouth, he helps Harry up his feet, which he does clumsily, a little disoriented from the change of position, his knees must be hurting a bit. Louis doesn’t care. The only thing he cares about right now is not fucking coming which he was two seconds away from doing, so he buys himself some time and leans in to kiss Harry when he’s not even fully up yet.

Like magnets, every piece of Harry crashes into every piece of Louis. They kiss passionately, limbs tangled together, naked skin against naked skin. You wouldn’t know when one of them ends and the other begins, especially with all the tattoos littering their chests and arms, some of them complementary to one another, as per Harry’s request many times over.

They part only for a moment so that Louis can drag Harry back to the sofa, where he arranges him exactly how he wants him. He leans him against the back of the couch, kissing up the column of his neck as he goes, pressing Harry’s arms down so that they bend to his sides and his weight rests on his elbows. Then, almost as if parting a curtain, Louis pulls Harry's legs apart so that he has a good view of his cock--hard as a rock and ready to go. Harry is such a sight, flushed down to his collarbones, chest heaving and lips cherry red and glistening from kissing.

Louis did that.

As he leans down on Harry, settling down in the V shape of Harry’s leg, taking himself in hand to guide it where he wants it the most, he gives himself a few anchoring strokes, just to take some of the edge off. He’s not a saint after all.

When he breaches Harry with the crown of his prick, Louis murmurs, “Tell me if I hurt you, Rose,” like he imagines Leonardo would in a much more interesting version of the movie. But Harry is silent, eyes closed and head resting on his shoulder, gasping with every inch of cock he takes.

Bottoming out feels like coming home. For a moment they are one, hearts beating in unison against one another, that’s how sex with Harry always is: a constant star, something immovable and perfect.

When Louis starts to move, Harry prevents him from going too far, keeping him as close as possible, strong arms clutching at his waist, hands roaming back up Louis’ shoulder blades to guide his movements.

Louis knows he’s hit Harry’s prostate, less because of the high whimper he voices, but more because he goes suddenly limp, almost like his limbs have turned to jelly. Harry tries, and fails, to kiss him, only catching the corner of Louis’ lip lazily —  also a pretty good indication.

“ _Lou_ ,” Harry cries, and that’s when Louis knows the big earth shattering moment is upon them and Harry starts coming, untouched.

“That’s it, sweetheart,” Louis breathes, lips against the shell of Harry’s ear, “let go.”

When he comes, Harry always, _without fail,_ breaks character, as he starts spurting pulses of come between them, hot like lava, he always shouts Louis’ name, holding on to him for dear life.

Louis is not far behind him. He collapses into Harry’s arms as soon as he shoots his load, and Harry puts his legs around his middle to ensure he stays right where he is, snuggled far up his arse until Louis goes soft and slips out naturally.

Harry spends a lot of time playing with Louis’ fringe and trailing his fingers up and down Louis’ arms until their breathing settles.

“Next time I want to play the nurse. You’ll be the hot doctor.” Louis sighs, cheek squished against Harry’s chest bone.

“How about you’ll be the hot shot actor and I’ll be the overworked pastry chef for a while. I’m spent. You completely wrecked me.”

Louis chuckles, looking up at Harry.

“Baby, we can be whatever you want.” Louis kisses Harry on the lips.

They go for round two as soon as Louis tells him about the call back, the come on Harry’s belly and leaking between his thighs is not even dry.

 

**

 

**One year later - Valentine’s day.**

 

“Oh my fucking God, are you--?”

Louis is slowly starting to get used to being recognised in the street but truth be told, he doesn’t have plenty of time for selfie taking or autograph giving. He just came back from two weeks of promoting _One Last Time_ , his first starring movie role and he really, _really_ wants to see his boy. He’s in front of the pastry shop now, watching Harry through the window, smiling and handing the familiar blue bag with “Gem’s” written on it to an old lady from behind the counter. He hasn’t noticed Louis yet. Louis was about to go inside, fingers around the door handle when he got stopped by two young women.

“It’s me, yes, do you want a picture?” Louis offers, smiling kindly and remembering what his manager said about fan service and name recognition and what not.

“No!” The one wearing the glasses replies, way too quickly, “I mean yes-- sorry I’m being rude.” She hides her face in her hands, turning beat red. “Lisa, a little help please.”

Lisa seems fairly amused by her friend’s self consciousness. “I’m sorry about her, this is Mag, she’s a fan of his.” Louis follows the direction of Lisa’s thumb. She’s pointing directly at Harry and really, Louis can relate. Who wouldn’t love him?

“Mag, is it?” Louis chuckles as Mag looks up comically from between her fingers, no chance of her blushing dying down anytime soon. “What can I do for you?”

“Nevermind, it’s stupid,” Mag replies, already attempting to leave but being prevented by Lisa’s firm hand on her forearm. Mag yelps.

“You flew all the way from Singapore for this!”

“I wanna do a shoefie with Harry,” Mag finally cries, like she’s admitting her biggest darkest secret.

Louis smiles.

Harry has become quite [the instagram sensation](https://www.instagram.com/desserted_in_paris/) these last few months. Dozens and dozens of pictures of Harry’s pastries, in the foreground of Harry’s pics of his shoes (hence “shoefies”) now fill Harry’s instagram, making him famous all around the world. The photos are an anthology of Harry’s colourful shoes and they’re chosen to match every one of his sugary creations. Whether it’s his yellow sandals to match the [Savoie biscuit](https://www.instagram.com/p/BUMFbDSAO2H/) with honey, his blue sequins to go with the [blueberry cake](https://www.instagram.com/p/BLYGQZ6hyxo/) made with a sablé base and blueberry compote, his green dress shoes going with a [traditional Swiss Carac](https://www.instagram.com/p/BG81Ih8K9YJ/) covered in a green frosting, or his pink high heels that goes heavenly with the shiny raspberry [pink eclair](https://desserted-in-paris.tumblr.com/search/pink). And it’s the same with every pastry he ever creates. As soon as it comes to life, Harry immortalises it with a shot of a pair of his shoes matching, be it leather, glitter, suede, red, blue, purple, you name it, Harry has them (their house has a whole room just for Harry’s shoes, mind).

The golden boots were the ones that started that trend. Once the gaping hole Gemma left started to heal, Harry found a way of honoring his sister while still being himself. She would be so proud of him, Louis thinks.

Louis, himself, is so proud of how far Harry has come.

Before that, Harry was already really successful of course, being official supplier for the Royal Court and all, but once he fully embraced that part of himself that was buried, he just thrived. It took a while, but the fun shoe loving, crazy colourful inventive part of him really just fully bloomed. Once he completely grew into himself there was no stopping him and it was really the most beautiful thing to be a witness to.

"He’s a legend. I follow him on every social media. I want to be like him when I grow up,” Mag says, stirring Louis from his thoughts.

“There’s only one of him I’m afraid, young Mag,” Louis supplies, amused and fond. “He’s one of a kind.”

“You’re the one buying him the shoes, right?” Lisa chips in and that just fills Louis with pride instantly.

“Guilty.” Louis smirks.

Louis probably spends too much money on Harry’s vast shoe collection, but he can’t help himself. The way Harry’s face lights up when he’s presented with a new pair to compliment his latest innovative dessert can’t compare to any other high Louis has ever experienced. It’s exhilarating and Louis indulges, always.  At this point he’s not sure if the obsessive buying is for him or Harry — but they both benefit.  

“Ha! I knew it! I read something about it in a magazine.”

The magazine in question was Louis’ first cover, for his breakthrough, as a rising actor. Harry was mentioned quite a bit during that interview.

“Do you think he’ll agree?” Mag looks rather anxious, the poor thing.“Other than himself you’re the only one allowed in the shoefies.”

She’s not wrong. There are several pics taken with [ Louis’ feet ](https://desserted-in-paris.tumblr.com/post/137677048552/oh-how-i-love-blood-oranges-theyre-color-and#notes) and the “pastry du jour”. It started out as a joke, Louis wanting to know if Harry’s “fans” were really as observant as Harry made them out to be, but Louis was quickly found out, immediately called out for his small feet and different style in shoewear. There was even a #harrygothacked trend going on there for a night. Harry found that absolutely hilarious, exposing Louis publicly and introducing him as his boyfriend to the watching world.

It’s true that no one else has ever starred in one of Harry’s shoefies before. He can’t promise Mag she’ll get satisfaction though, because he has other plans for today’s shoefie.

“I’ll tell you what. I can’t promise you you’ll get your shoefie, but I can tell you you’re going to bear witness to something amazing.” At the girls’ eager, curious reactions, Louis chuckles, feeling the familiar excitement thrumming under his skin like every other time he thought about what he’s about to do.

The girls follow him inside, where the place is packed full like a beehive, customers scattered everywhere for the afternoon rush. There’s no sign of Harry anymore, he must have slipped in the back, leaving the customers to the staff.

Urging the girls to wait for him, he squeezes the bag he’s holding a little tighter and makes his way to the kitchen.

Harry is there, alone, in front of the familiar huge stainless steel cooker. From where he stands, Louis has a clear view of his broad shoulders moving as he stirs something inside a pot. His bun is loose, Louis notes, but that’s because more often than not, Harry doesn’t  like to have his hair tied anymore, he just has to for the job.  At first glance, one would think he doesn’t look that much different than he did a little over a year ago but they’d be wrong, it’s just an occupational hazard. Louis knows the rings Harry adores to wear now are neatly put away in his locker, along with a patterned shirt and the crazy shoes for the day.

Harry starts whistling. It’s a familiar tune, one that holds special meaning to them both and Louis’ breathing catches, like it often does when he’s faced with how much he loves this man.

As Louis deposits the bag he’s holding by the door, careful not to be heard or seen,  his feet lead him directly to Harry, incapable of staying away any longer.

There’s nothing more familiar than coming up behind him and helping him stir. Hearing him sigh because he recognised Louis without having to look back.

A minute of pure calm and happiness washes over them, leaving them in a protective bubble in the midst of all the chaos.

“My valentine,” Harry croaks, hand covering Louis’ over his heart and sighing heavily.

“The one and only,” Louis murmurs into his back.

He’s in no rush to move, feeling content to be there, nose between Harry’s shoulder blades where the familiar smell of sugar, cologne and _Harry_ licks at his nostrils.

“I missed you,” Harry says, turning around in Louis’ embrace and putting his arms around Louis’ neck. “The bed feels too big without you. My back hurt and you weren’t there to give me a massage.” While he complains, Harry deposits a feather like kiss on Louis’ lips and the tip of his nose to say hello. “Hey.”

“Hey.” Louis nuzzles in the crook of Harry’s neck, not having enough of his share of Harry’s smell yet, squeezing him just a little tighter. “I’ve missed you more. Hotel suites are not what they’re cracked up to be when you’re not there to share them with me under false pretenses.”

Louis can feel Harry’s head ducked and buried in his hair, like he’s getting his fair share of Louis’ smell too.

“Casey and Niall keep raiding our fridge, I’m thinking about changing the locks,” Harry finally says, leaning back just enough to make eye contact with Louis, smiling enough so his soft dimples to pop out.

“Rude.” Louis shakes his head, absolutely no heat behind it. “They’re not that poor anymore, Nick is doing great.”

“Yeah, but none of them can cook!”

Harry’s got a point there. Plus, they have become quite the little codependent family nowadays. Niall, Casey and Nick show up at least once a week for dinner, uninvited, and Louis couldn't be happier about it. Casey and Harry have grown really close which is a strange dynamic for Louis to observe, because once they start, they’re unstoppable.

“At least you weren’t lonely while I was gone, I’m glad. But they better not have eaten my valentine’s cake,” Louis teases.

Harry rolls his eyes at the mere thought, like it’s preposterous, but he looks fond.

“Like I would ever let that happen.”

As Harry turns around, presumably to fetch Louis’ pastry, Louis seizes his bag and digs out the red vintage glitter boots he bought for the occasion, then he hides them behind his back, like he always does. It’s a ritual by now.

“It better be red and heartshaped,” Louis says to Harry’s bum as Harry’s leans fully forward into the fridge, displaying his perfect perky arse.

Harry doesn’t grace him with a response other than a perfectly crooked eyebrow. He’s hiding the cake behind his back too, waiting for Louis to give the go.

“Ready?”

There’s nothing more wonderful than watching Harry’s face when he sees a new pair of shoes for the first time, but this time is special for more reason than one. It’s the pair Gemma promised to buy him years ago, just before she passed, and Louis really wanted to do that for him. He looked forever to find a pair in perfect condition, and it cost an arm, but Louis doesn’t care. The look on Harry’s face is worth that and even more.

“Lou,” Harry whispers brokenly, lips wavering. “You-- you found them.” Tears are threatening to fall as Harry scoops the shoes up almost reverently, cake forgotten on the counter behind him. “I love you so much. So so so much. Come here.”

Harry doesn’t give Louis time to react; he’s hugging him to the point of crushing him.  Louis is forced to stand on his tiptoes, chin over Harry’s shoulder, cheek squished against Harry’s strong jaw, hands hanging off the back of Harry’s shoulders for leverage like he is hanging on for dear life.

“You like them?” Louis asks unnecessarily and Harry nods into his neck. Then Louis’ eyes fall on the cake, forgotten over the counter. It’s in [ the form of a dome ](https://68.media.tumblr.com/612101b4e65f9e1586c1c76f07ba93aa/tumblr_o2j23jWcNy1ukgspxo1_1280.jpg), vanilla white, and peppered with a dozen of little pink and red heart shaped candy. Harry made it small and delicate and Louis’ heart threatens to jump out of his chest. It’s missing something significant however.

“Baby, is this my cake?”

Harry nods again, from deep into the softness of Louis’ neck, giving no sign of wanting to move anytime soon. The heels of the red boots are digging a hole into his back. He doesn’t care.

“It can’t be, because it’s missing something.”

Harry jumps back at that, red-rimmed bright eyes widening, he’s still flushed all over from the sudden surge of emotion.

Louis, finally free of Harry’s embrace, jumps at the opportunity to fish out of his pocket what’s missing from the cake. He squeezes it tight into his fist.

“Here, look.” When Louis invites Harry closer to inspect the cake, Harry looks even more puzzled than before. There’s something in his tone however, that suggests he knows Louis is cooking something, he’s used to Louis’ conniving ways after all.

“Is it too perfect?” Harry asks jokingly, “Not messy enough for you, is that it?”

“Exactly.” Louis chuckles, then he places the ring square on top of the pastry. The simple silver shiny band looks perfect on its bed of candy and vanilla, like its own kind of velvet box.

“Oh my God,” Harry whimpers as Louis sinks to one knee.

“Harry Edward Styles--”

“Oh my God,” Harry repeats, a hand clasping the lower half of his face in shock.

 

Mag and Lisa are there, as well as the whole staff and a store full of customers cheering them on when Harry takes the shoefie of the day, clad in his red boots, Louis’ cake in the foreground. The only thing different from this picture, than all the other ones, is that there is a ring, nestled on top of the confectionary treat, slightly smudged from buttery, sweet fingers, but it fits. It fits with the rest of the cake, the rest of their lives —  sloppy and imperfectly perfect.

Harry posts it on instagram, with a caption that says--

_I said yes_

 

_**Fin**_

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Do I have to say that the titanic scene is inspired by Harry's carpool karaoke? 
> 
> We're here! Thank you for taking this journey with me.
> 
> If you liked the fic, then please help me promote it by reblogging [the fic post](http://www.tvshows-addict.tumblr.com/post/161475060616/rom-com-by-tvshows-addict-coming-to-ao3-friday). Kudos and comments are greatly appreciated too.
> 
> You can also find me on [my tumblr](http://www.tvshows-addict.tumblr.com) or my [Twitter](https://www.twitter.com/Tvshows_Addy).
> 
> As I said, it takes a village for me to write a fic so i'd like to thank my village properly. I hope your mentions in the fic made you smile. In no particular order:
> 
> [Seren](http://www.myinnerfangilr.tumblr.com), [Lisa](http://www.a-writerwrites.tumblr.com), [Silvia](http://www.melmanpur.tumblr.com), [Clara](http://www.maybeasalways.tumblr.com), [Océane](http://www.lousthighs.tumblr.com), [ Blandine ](http://www.nottooldforthisship.tumblr.com), [Hélène](http://www.hellnrocksstuff.tumblr.com), [Gina](http://www.twopoppies.tumblr.com), [Mac](http://www.realitybetterthanfiction.tumblr.com), [Lissie](http://www.phd-mama.tumblr.com), [Anitra](http://www.allwaswell16.tumblr.com), [Liz](http://www.cuethetommo.tumblr.com), [Cynthia](http://www.myownsparknow.tumblr.com), [Lacey](http://www.taggiecb.tumblr.com), [Shelly](http://www.cherrystreet.tumblr.com), [Shai ](http://www.greenfeelings.tumblr.com), [Dan](http://www.iamlittleblackdress.tumblr.com), [Gabi](http://www.tellmethisisnotlove.tumblr.com), [Jana](http://www.littlechilllarrie.tumblr.com), [Sus](http://www.lululawrence.tumblr.com), [Tabby](http://www.suddenclarityharry.tumblr.com), [Brittany](http://www.haloeverlasting.tumblr.com), [India](http://www.indiaalphawhiskey.tumblr.com), [Jacky](http://www.dimpled-halo.tumblr.com), [KK](http://www.waytoomanypeopleintheaddisonlee.tumblr.com), [Shar](http://www.tommosgun.tumblr.com), and my Lou who's not on tumblr.
> 
> A special thank you for my homie [Silvia](http://www.melmanpur.tumblr.com) for the poster and the two wonderful manips she made for this work. [Pastry chef Harry](http://www.tvshows-addict.tumblr.com/post/161743398976/melmanpur-harry-styles-son-of-anne-styles) and [The golden boots shoefie!](http://www.tvshows-addict.tumblr.com/post/161960625991/melmanpur-harry-looks-back-at-louis-over-his)
> 
> A big thank you to the people who made moodboards and manips for this work!!! I love them all so much!!! You can check them out [here](http://www.tvshows-addict.tumblr.com/post/165697859946/allwaswell16-harry-purses-his-lips-obviously), [here](http://www.tvshows-addict.tumblr.com/post/165682514016/hazzabooween-fools-gold-by-tvshowsaddict) and [here](http://www.tvshows-addict.tumblr.com/post/165482407281/ficrections-fools-gold-55265-words-by). 
> 
> See you soon for [Lumberjack Louis](http://www.tvshows-addict.tumblr.com/post/161960242726/mmmm-im-here-for-lumberjack-louis) which will be a collab with [Lacey](http://www.taggiecb.tumblr.com)!


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